JM insisted that extreme abseiling was just the sport for us. One day he invited us along to see members of his club in action.
From a short distance we watched nervously as LS dropped down the grey crags on a thin red rope. I prayed that she would reach the ground before her time was up. Otherwise her rope would be cut – for this is the number 1 rule of extreme abseiling.
I was a student again. I’m not sure what motivated to study at undergraduate level once more, but I was enjoying the experience. The facilities at the University Birmingham thirty years since I first graduated were phenomenal.
I was even falling in love again. My beau was a young lad in his early twenties and on the same course as me. I could tell that he was attracted to me too. If only we would find a way to be alone together. My plan was to invite him to my hall of residence bedroom as soon as I got the chance. Of course we would have to keep our relationship secret from everyone. We’d be especially careful around SL and CA who were also on our course and knew TPR.
The day finally came when I would whisk my young man off to bed. However, all my plans were scuppered due to a surprise visit from TPR. I confessed nothing, but resented that my husband was getting in the way of my fun.
I felt sorry for our hostess E when I heard J and D shouting at each other in the next room. They really should have dealt with their disagreements over work at the office before joining our monthly book group meeting.
BD and I were dealing with a wee dilemma. Our colleague X was doing the rounds asking for sponsorship. Meanwhile we needed to approach the same people to gather contributions to X’s retirement present. We feared that few people would want to donate twice.
Then things got very sticky when word came that X was involved in malpractice ‘of BBC proportions’ with male students. It sounded like the University would need to contend with its own Jimmy Savile scandal, and that BD and I were the ones to bring the accusations to the attention of our senior colleagues.
I smashed an empty wine carafe on the streets of Scunthorpe.
We set off over the hills on the route that takes walkers to Camasunary on Skye. I wished that I had bothered to wear proper walking socks with my boots.
Meanwhile my companion SL explained to me the arrangements for the collection that she was making for the next 40th birthday amongst our group of friends.
TPR and I could get no peace. Just when we thought we were on our own we would look up and find a toddler and a little black dog at the end of the bed.
Dreamaticus 
Jaded academic seeks oblivion with the help of yellow jellied cocaine (Rousse)
It took us a while to find the meeting on the top floor of a deserted University building. The venue was a formal board room, and it was packed. All the great and good were there, including KW who greeted me as an old adversary, even though we had never shared a cross word.
Also in attendance was A, who seemed to have been sparing for a fight. It sounded like he had dragged some new people into a debate that should have been left buried back in 2014. I hoped that I wouldn’t be called up to comment.
Proceedings were brought to order by Robert Gordon University PhD graduate R. He asked us to work in groups on a number of tasks. My plan to maintain a low profile was thwarted when it became obvious that I was the only member of my group known to everyone else in the room. This meant that I was obliged to act as group leader and report back on our conclusions.
Perhaps this is why I sloped off to a bedroom with a supply of yellow jellied cocaine that had been kindly given to me by the Caribbean multi-millionaire drug dealing boyfriend of one of my students? I popped the coloured jelly into my mouth and waited for oblivion to take me.
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