‘North Berwick?’ I asked.
‘No’, she replied, ‘Berwick Berwick. The second time I waited at the bus stop and took the first bus that came. Until we got there I had no idea that this was a coach chartered by a group of teaching assistants on a day trip.’
The video link to the meeting of senior management across town should have been closed down much earlier in the day. Since it was still open the six of us in the classroom were able to witness completely the unexpected and inappropriate behaviour of our partying superiors.
‘No wonder they’ve made some strange appointments recently’ I concluded as I watched the woman in charge limboing under a table, cheered on by her right-hand man.
Afterwards LY left her red shoulder bag behind in the classroom, and SC had to lend me change for the bus back into town.
My mission was to take a credit card to John’s Restaurant, presumably to leave my number to secure a reservation. The route there was treacherous. I clung to a slippery wet rock-face, determined not to fall and injure myself. I was so pleased when I made it to the top.
Afterwards JG and TPR were making rude comments that OC-I appeared not to understand. I felt that it was my duty to explain them. I pulled OC-I under the table where he confessed that he knew exactly what was going on. He didn’t consider that the others’ remarks about bodily fluids and chafing amusing.
My ten year-old nephew and his little vandal friend treated my grandmother’s sideboard like a school desk.
I was furious. My sister thought I was harsh.
SL lived in a flat attached to the back of her school. When I visited she showed me a pretty pink patchwork shirt.
‘Where are its ears?’ I asked.
I was spilling stock everywhere: into the sink, onto the worktop, over the floor. It would take hours (for TPR) to clean up the oily mess.
Then we also had to deal with the greyhound puppy.I asked my mother if it had had a good night.
‘Fine apart from the urine’, she replied.
The Stockton Arms had undergone a dramatic change since I was last a regular sixth former visitor in the early 1980s. The biggest difference was that children were now welcome. All those sitting near to me were very well behaved, the majority looked after by their fathers who were enjoying a pint.
I sat at my table and hand wrote some notes. A man leant over and asked to see what I was doing. I showed him some of the photos glued inside my notebook. He was particularly interested in the shots of my glamorous sisters-in-law. Then I explained who I was, and my connection to the White House.
He found it hard to believe that I was related to JMH – until she turned up and we were able to demonstrate our likeness by pulling funny faces at him.
BV paid £7 so that he and I could sit naked together in a Turkish sauna.
This was a complete waste of money. You didn’t have to pay at all if you agreed to keep your swimming costume on.
I was meant to meet EF and KMcL at the Edinburgh Omni Centre for a swim, but I was too embarrassed to walk up Broughton Street in my gaping chain mail mini dressing gown. It was far too revealing: I looked like a prostitute. As things turned out neither of my friends went for a swim after all. EF had had her hair done instead.
Later the three of us dressed in coordinating raspberry red, white and blue outfits, then set off to meet LF. He had promised to take us to a café where you paid using the latest in plastic currencies.
Dreamaticus 