I was on a cycling tour of the Outer Hebrides with TPR, his mother, and his sister SG.
I was very impressed with my own performance on a single bike – until I realised that SG was on a scooter and had been secretly towing me.
I was on a cycling tour of the Outer Hebrides with TPR, his mother, and his sister SG.
I was very impressed with my own performance on a single bike – until I realised that SG was on a scooter and had been secretly towing me.
I skated across a melting ice rink with a Professor of Drama from Loughborough University.
TPR and I finally decided to get married. The wedding party was small because we did not invite anyone from my immediate family.
However, many of the B family played active roles in the proceedings. LB even sang a solo as part of the service.
JC and I forgot to pick up the picnic, but at least we had the lumps of cheddar cheese that I always carried in my purple wool glove.
We scattered these over the fields as we ran down to the beach, hoping that the storm would soon pass.
I drove through the rain to Birmingham where I met KB. Homeless since last Christmas, he’d now managed to secure accommodation for himself and his two foster children: Catherine aged 6, and Harry aged 12. (His own daughters had both dropped out of college and left their home town to take up factory work in Greenock.)
To my great surprise JB was with KB. She was fit and healthy and apparently leading a normal life, even though she was still dead. ‘I’m a bit like an illegal immigrant’ she explained ‘Not technically here, but still around’.
In the midst of all the excitement of seeing JB again I forgot that I had a 3:30pm appointment at the Robinson Library at the Newcastle University, some 200 miles north of Birmingham. This had been made several months before, but neither party had confirmed the arrangement. I hoped that it had slipped the mind of the Newcastle librarian too. I would compose a letter of apology the following day.
My next visit was to the library at the University of Birmingham. It full of revelations.
My colleague explained that the televisions mounted on Victorian-style stands at waist level in her office allowed for the broadcast of instructional material to students who could watch it from the comfort of their beds.
‘From the comfort of their beds?! This is not what students should be doing in bed!’ I screamed.
My idea for an MSc in data science research methods was not warmly welcomed. All I got in response to my proposal was a set of dismissive facial expressions, hand gestures and grunts.
I wanted to walk along the River Tyne to my parents’ house, but I didn’t know which bank to follow due to the flooding.
I was regretting my decision to accept the invitation to chair the conference, especially now that the ‘man in charge’ was obviously ignoring the programme and directing the delegates keen to hear the plenary session into a field. This was a sure way to lose them all very quickly.
I wanted everyone down the hill in the marquee, where they could also browse the popular jewellery stall (gold loop earrings were the top sellers), the blanket display (I might buy one myself), and the cake stand.
I had been assigned a new duty at work: to monitor and report on water levels on the River Thames. My colleague KC was responsible for the tributaries upstream. Neither of us was qualified for this task.