Were there two, three of four of them? Why did they all look so similar? In the end I asked the nearest one.
‘Oh, we’re just two sets of identical twin sisters’ came the explanation.
‘But you all look so alike!’
‘That’s because we are also quads.’
Were there two, three of four of them? Why did they all look so similar? In the end I asked the nearest one.
‘Oh, we’re just two sets of identical twin sisters’ came the explanation.
‘But you all look so alike!’
‘That’s because we are also quads.’
Just over the brow of the hill we would reach the beach with the enormous waves. I screamed at TPR to slow down – otherwise we risked being engulfed in sea water as soon as we hit the sand. I was right to warn him. The tide was so high that the water came all the way up the sand dunes and spilled onto the road.
We turned away from the water’s edge and drove into the Dumfries and Galloway market town. I had forgotten (if I had ever known) its old fashioned narrow medieval streets. We spotted the children coming out of school, including twin sisters with long red hair.
Another child in uniform grabbed my hand and invited me on a guided tour of the school during the lunch break while the impressive school orchestra was practising. Afterwards I heard this girl tell another pupil that I was a more interesting guest than the last one.
I intended afterwards to catch a bus back into town with RR and PR, but when I saw BP and EH in the revolving door EH offered me a lift. I was tempted to accept because this would give me some extra time to catch up with work. EH then told me about her early days in the job when colleagues used to disappear for hours on mysterious ‘placement visits’.
The young lad who had been telling us about his eastern European Jewish heritage skipped ahead along Bruntsfield Place and stopped at a fast food outlet where he ordered a doner kebab. When we reached him TPR thought about asking for a portion of chips.
At the bus stop outside the shop we noticed a group of familiar faces from University days: HP, KP, GW, EW, PW and his girlfriend. GW told us that they had just tried to find us at our flat so it was a stroke of luck that we had all bumped into one another at the other side of town. I couldn’t understand why they hadn’t let us know in advance that they had plans to visit Edinburgh.
We took them to a pub just off the High Street. It was hardly a great night out. The conversation was very dull.
TPR was on Holy Island with LBX when he should have been on holiday with me.
I snogged PS to balance things up. It was years since I had last seen him, but he was as good looking as I remembered, and still in excellent physical health.
Belle and I squeezed into the revolving door, then sat side-by-side on the bench, taking care with the positioning of Belle’s broken leg. Then I took out my iPhone. For the next half hour or so we went round and round filming hysterical selfie videos.
CM, who went through the door just once to exit at the other side, was furious that we forced him to wait so long for us. He couldn’t care less about our filming exploits.
With each meal costing almost £400 a shot, and accommodation at £700 per person a night, this holiday did not come cheap – even if the expenses were partially covered by TPR’s employers as an incentive trip.
Although we loved the five star hotel and access to the cruise liner on the quayside, we knew that we would bankrupt ourselves if we didn’t head home soon.
On my way walk back from Leith along the cycle path I picked up a couple of heavy bin bags that PL was about to send to the charity shop. Inside them I found a pile of brand new hand-knitted toddlers’ jumpers. These would be perfect for the new mothers on campus.
I stopped off at the pub to break my journey home. There a tall stringy man stole about £45 from my black purse. He returned £20, but refused to give me back the rest of my cash. In its place he offered a block of cannabis resin, the size and shape of a data stick. I had no use for this. I just wanted my money back.
My only hope was rescue by TPR, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Why was the bathroom window open? Why was the burglar alarm ringing?
I looked up and caught sight of the man with the sledgehammer. His accomplice was right behind him.
‘Oh my God!’ muttered my husband under his breath. I willed him to grab the phone and dial 999 before we were both bludgeoned to death.