We were on a road trip across the US with my cousins N and D. We stopped at a ranch where an old farmer showed us his stock. TPR took it upon himself to see if he could out-run the new-born cattle.
He chose a weak-looking bullock to chase. This was a terrible idea. He narrowly avoided being gobbled alive by the angry animal.
We’d heard that the play was set in a railway carriage so TPR thought that the best place to sit would be the back of the stage. KA and I soon put him right, arguing that we didn’t want to spend three hours staring at the actors’ backs. We refused to sit in the seats that he had saved for us and moved elsewhere. We soon switched places again when an enormous man took a seat in front of us, and again for a third time when we realised that if you were too close to the stage you couldn’t see all the action.
All this was pointless, however, because we found that the Danish avant garde production in Manchester was not to our taste at all. Before long it was obvious that most of the audience agreed, and started vacating the theatre. I wandered away from my seat for a while and when I came back I accidentally ended up on the ‘set’ which had now moved into the audience space. The only interesting part of the whole production came when KA’s daughter R was invited onto the stage to dance.
My friend showed off her beautiful new baby daughter. She was a tiny glossy silver-coated seal. I had never seen a sweeter face with such appealing dark, near-black eyes.
KNX impressed me once again. He jumped up into the off-white Land Rover, popped it into reverse, and backed it neatly into a spot closer to the house, thus giving space for the other vehicles to move. He’d also been clever with his camera earlier in the day.
Meanwhile one of the others had regressed to toddlerhood. She was digging randomly in the allotment mud.
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.
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.
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.
TPR was learning how to walk on his new false leg.
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.
