It was such a long time since I had seen my old school friend ST (both in real life and in my dreams).
I took the seat next to him and looked down to his left hand: he still sported a wedding ring. Then he talked me through a document on his PC.
It was such a long time since I had seen my old school friend ST (both in real life and in my dreams).
I took the seat next to him and looked down to his left hand: he still sported a wedding ring. Then he talked me through a document on his PC.
I felt rather out of place in the huge panelled drawing room stuffed with men in tweed jackets reading broadsheet newspapers, especially when carrying a copy of the Daily Mail.
When I sat down in the dining room it was also obvious that the men thought that I didn’t deserve to be there either. It took some work on my part to convince them that I had every right to my place at the table. After all, I was the one chairing the panel meeting the next day.
JS and I were my mother’s passengers in the tiny red car. Our route us along the dangerous cliffs of the north east coast of Northumberland, and then west along the A69 towards Hexham.
We considered calling in on KA, but thought it would be rude to do so without making a prior arrangement. We also ran out of time to do so due to huge problems navigating the narrow alleyways of town. It was as if we’d never visited Hexham before in our entire lives.
‘And this is Simon’, I announced, as the others took their seats at the table for a cheese feast.
JG looked a little puzzled. Why had I rechristened him? I had no idea myself!
Nevertheless he went along with his new name, sat down, and tucked into his dinner.
My online friend TBM came to stay with S, the youngest of her three boys. Our flat had plenty of space, yet they both shared our bedroom. In fact, none of us really appreciated the vast size of our flat until the next day when we went to pick up breakfast from the canteen. Our gilded ballroom was truly immense (and would be a great venue for the dancing at our 30th wedding anniversary celebrations in 2017).
After breakfast TPR and I sat on a rock with a couple of friendly young men, one of whom was humming sweet tunes. Gradually I realised that this was Ed Sheeran. I apologised for not recognising him. I was, however, very excited to be in his company, and rang my sister J to say so. She immediately trumped my celebrity spotting with a texted picture of Paul Weller with her husband in her garden.
The EPSRC put me up in a reasonable hotel, but my room did not have enough storage space. I would make a request for a corner cupboard and some shelving for my books above the radiator.
In the meantime I popped down to the harbour to see what was happening. I was nearly washed away when the latest boat came in with two enormous dead whales in its wake.
I kept quiet when XYZ entered the room carrying a tray of home-made cakes. She offered one to each person as if she had never been away. They each happily accepted a cake and carried on their friendly chat.
Everyone gladly welcomed XYZ back to the old familiar friendship set-up. I was delighted that recent events had seemingly been forgiven and forgotten.
Motherhood was new to me and I was not taking well to it.
I misunderstood the need to be near my baby at all times. I also found it difficult to explain why my baby (a) was only 6 inches tall and (b) sported a plaited string of straw (rather than an arm) from its left armpit. Indeed, I did not think that either of these unusual features were worthy of comment.
It was a Monday morning and I was desperate for our weekend visitors to leave so that I could get to work.
My plans were thwarted by my sister-in-law SMcC who insisted on cycling to the outskirts of the city.
I followed her with AS in his borrowed silver open-top BMW. Our job was to tempt S back into town via Leith so that she and AS could gathering their belongings and set off home, and I could get to my office.