Daniel Radcliffe goes blond (Rousse)

Posted on September 4, 2016 by Dreamaticus

Daniel Radcliffe looked up as I approached him. I couldn’t be sure that he recognised me.

‘My, how you’ve grown up,’ I said, a little uncertain as to whether or not I approved of his new hairstyle. Peroxide blond was probably not his colour.

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Marking dispute easily solved (Rousse)

Posted on September 3, 2016 by Dreamaticus

I eagerly awaited the return of my knowledge management essay. When I first saw it, I was pleased with my mark of 85% – but then I heard that another student was awarded 98%!

I told the temporary tutor that I’d changed my mind about her leading the class this term, and that I urgently needed to moderate all the marks for this particular assignment.

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Sport, canoodling, and drowning (Rousse)

Posted on September 2, 2016 by Dreamaticus

I walked into the small green copse where I saw young men playing sport. There were also two people canoodling on the grass – until a senior member of the armed forces commanded them to desist from such scandalous behaviour.

I didn’t hang around. I walked over to a small area of sand that bordered the river to follow it back to the road. A glossy-haired woman approached me.

‘You are famous’, she said.

‘Oh, I had no idea’, I replied.

The woman was keen to accompany me, and I was happy for her to walk with me along the riverbank. We enjoyed on another’s company until the water suddenly started to rise and soon overcame us. I could swim, but my companion could not. She disappeared down a whirlpool of brown water and (because I was not brave enough to attempt a rescue) I left her to drown.

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Learning to walk with a false leg (Rousse)

Posted on September 2, 2016 by Dreamaticus

TPR was learning how to walk on his new false leg.

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Christmas travel arrangements (Rousse)

Posted on September 2, 2016 by Dreamaticus

Homeless, we were shackled up at my parents’ house for Christmas. One bonus, however, was that we did rather well for Christmas presents. Amongst my haul were two new sets of pyjamas, one of which was red and fleecy and the other pink cotton. My middle sister had even given me a present so now I was trying to work out what I could give to her.

We rang my uncle, aunt and cousins and they invited us over tot heir house later in the day. I said that I would walk over at 5pm, then TPR would drive over to meet me there. In the event both of us completely forgot about this arrangement. Instead TPR busied himself packing and I popped into Stockton on foot.

The next day TPR and I took a flight. Although we were travelling economy we were lucky enough to have mid-cabin seats with extra leg-room.

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Books, visitors, and plans for Christmas 2016 at the newly acquired guest house (Rousse)

Posted on August 31, 2016 by Dreamaticus

The guest house was now in the hands of MB. This meant that there was a completely different library of old books from which to retrieve your reading material. I soon worked my way through modern literary fiction, but then I was stumped again. It looked like I would have to turn to classics in the volumes of the the Everyman’s Library for a volume to read on the beach in the heat. (Had TPR remembered to pack the sunblock? I did hope so!)

Amongst the other guests was a disabled teenage athlete who wore a bright blue tracksuit. At times she would go missing, but we always found her – on one occasion in a bin looking for a DVD of a Disney animation.

Members of my family would also sometimes call by. My middle sister initiated a conversation about Christmas 2016 while the little one marked up a whiteboard to announce a sale of her art work, even though none was visibly for sale. Of the pair of the them, the latter was clearly more avant garde.

When JC and GC came to stay I generously paid for their parking ticket in the street.

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A miracle landing, and donkeys and surfers in Stockon-on-Tees (Rousse)

Posted on August 28, 2016 by Dreamaticus

Despite all the warnings BP, EH and I all elected to take a flight during the terror alert. I should not have been surprised when about an hour from our destination the cabin lights went out and the air supply came to a sudden halt.

‘This is it then’, I thought. ‘Poor TPR. I hope that he forgives me for taking this flight, and gets over my death’.

I wondered whether the three of us should hold hands. It appeared, however, that the others had accepted that the three of us would go to our deaths alone.

Then something miraculous happened: the plane landed safely and we all disembarked unscathed.

My next trip was to Stockton-on-Tees to help keep the donkeys out of the way of traffic (specifically lorries) on Darlington Road, and photograph surfers.

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Mostly unknowns at the online information relaunch (Rousse)

Posted on August 27, 2016 by Dreamaticus

They tried to bring back the annual international online information meeting, but it just wasn’t the same. A couple of unknown academics from an equally unknown university were supposedly in charge. They didn’t seem to be coping very well.

I decided to take a place in the main hall for the opening keynote speech. The few audience members, none of whom I recognised, were scattered across the auditorium.

I took my place next to a group of women. When the speaker stepped up to the stage we were all surprised that this person was an Indian woman (as opposed to an Indian man).

Across the aisle a bunch of male delegates were talking and nodding in my direction. I overheard one say ‘Yes, that one. The one with the ginger hair. That’s her!’

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A French affair (Rousse)

Posted on August 27, 2016 by Dreamaticus

The only way to get into the French hall of residence was to balance on wobbly podiums attached to the outside of the building, then leap from there into the dodgy lift. Once inside the lift you had to perform all sorts of acrobatics in a very confined space to ensure that you eventually reached the right floor and your room. This would never pass a British health and safety check.

There were some interesting young men dancing on the podiums. The first who tried to pick me up was a school boy in town for a University entrance test of his English. I discovered that the second was more to my liking when I felt his upper arm muscles under the fabric of his cotton shirt. He was a 28 year-old redhead who worked for Cisco. I followed him to his room not caring that I was married to someone else.

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Flour revenge (Rousse)

Posted on August 25, 2016 by Dreamaticus

My sister criticised me for transporting flour. I took my revenge by tipping some over her head.

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