A failed escape from a crime scene (Rousse)

We were staying in a beautiful tall detached house that was second from the end of a row of similar buildings squashed together in a densely populated part of the city. If you glanced up at the skylight over the bed, you could see the top window and rooftop of the house next door.

One day I was idly gazing upwards at the skylight when I heard a strange noise. Then I saw that a ladder had been placed against the neighbour’s wall, and a succession of youths was scampering up it. They did not look like workmen: they were burglars!

I wanted to raise the alarm, but a face stared at me directly through the window with a silent warning. As the witness of a crime able to identify those responsible, I was in grave danger. I needed to escape across town as fast as possible.

I ran out into the street to board on the first bus that appeared, dragging TPR along with me. I tried in vain to communicate to him why I jumped each time a new person joined us on the top deck.

When a Malaysian woman approached me with her hand extended, I knew that to take it would be dangerous. She crushed my fingers into my palm, as if to warn me to flee – or face the consequences.

Then the man at the window came up the steps. This was it. I was in mortal danger, yet unable to communicate this to anyone fast enough to save myself.

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Hostess wears white, belted, plastic raincoat in bed (Rousse)

As an overnight guest at WB’s house, I was privileged to view to her nightwear: a white, belted, plastic raincoat.

I was not convinced that this was the most comfortable garment to wear in bed – certainly not for the person wearing it, nor indeed her sleeping partner (me).

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Almost sacked in the City (Rousse)

When I travelled back in time to 2006 I found that my six-month secondment to the City was not the success that I remembered. In fact, my employer had tried to sack me twice, first for incompetence and second for working under a fraudulent contract which diverted funds not to my university, but to one of my colleagues. On both occasions it had been too embarrassing to tell me to leave.

I used my time back in the past to empty my desk drawers, just in case my employer really did decide to get rid of me. Amongst my belongings were dozens of letters from JG and JS to me that I had failed to answer.

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University of Nottingham web pages hacked (Rousse)

I ruined the University of Nottingham’s graduate testimonials web page when I picked out the plastic letters from the top line and dropped them on the floor.

I simply couldn’t remember the wording that JC had used to honour her French degree from 1985, so was unable to replace the line.

I hoped that they had a back-up.

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Sea monster victim organises a lift home (Rousse)

I was an extra in a new Dr Who spin-off. Despite our requests, none of the ‘actors’ on my grade were informed in advance of the plot. This was to add to the authenticity of the monster scenes.

SPL and HJ had also signed up for roles. For our first assignment we were bathers in a roof-top swimming pool of viscous blue cling-film. The actress who had played the first black Dr Who was also in this scene, but we were not permitted look at her.

Seconds in, SPL was swallowed up by a sea monster.

Then we were all marshalled into a red double decker bus to be transported through Leeds to Harrogate. The bus stopped at a junction at the end of a terraced street in Harrogate to allow SPL to disembark.

It was so obvious that this had all been planned. Unlike the rest of us, SPL had been informed of the plot and her short-lived role. She had also managed to persuade the producer to give her a lift home after she had completed her part.

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Sweet shoes for Belle

My new shoes were made out of puff pastry.

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Martha Kearney and the no knickers interview for Women’s Hour (Rousse)

At the end of the interview Martha Kearney asked me to wait while she fetched something to cover me up. She returned with a beautiful royal blue cashmere coat.

‘We can’t have you sitting around the studio half-naked’ she explained.

I considered her view somewhat old-fashioned and inappropriate, not least because the contribution that we had just recorded was for Women’s Hour.

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