Although the bright green three piece, 1970s-inspired man’s suit looked good on Robert de Niro, somehow when I wore something similar it was beyond special. I looked like Bianca Jagger and a mermaid and a miraculous vision.
The way this was going, I was in danger of outshining the bride.
SL sat opposite me in our shared bath.
“It feels like my friends are holding me under house arrest” she complained.
“If this is the case, it’s probably for your own good”, I replied.
Brighton was shrouded in mist. I could just make out the Pavilion. From this distance it reminded me of the Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood in St Petersburg.
I confessed to the PhD students that I was only capable of one main work activity. I had the option of either keeping on top of my email or accomplishing a specific task. To achieve both was impossible.
Repacking all our belongings was a long and difficult job in our cruise ship cabin after our tour of the Nordic fjords. I couldn’t understand why we had brought cut-off wellies with us in the first place. Now I considered leaving them behind, along with various other extraneous items gathering in a pile in our cabin. The one thing that I must not discard, however, was the bunch of keys that I found at the bottom of a lime green carrier bag. Without these we could not get back into our car at the port, nor our flat at the end of the long journey home.
While I was busy packing, TPR was in the boat’s conservatory checking us in to a British Airways flight. He was hopeful that he could secure front of cabin seats. Unfortunately it was not to be.
I found it rather disturbing that before we had even left the boat the new holiday-makers were allowed on, and one had already climbed into TPR’s still-warm bed.
S and T completely remodelled their house in Pitlochry to enlarge the space for a visit from former colleagues.
As we settled into our new environment someone mentioned a trivia quiz. Suddenly I was the most popular person in the room. Everyone wanted to be on my team to benefit from my vast general knowledge.
Although X and Y had been divorced for some time, Y was at X’s birthday celebrations. TPR and I were grateful for this. If Y hadn’t been there, we would not have known anyone.
The only problem was that we had misunderstood the nature of X and Y’s relationship since the divorce. We were unaware that X was still very bitter about the sacrifices that he made to his career so that Y’s career would flourish, and his resultant loss of financial independence. (However, it had to be said that no expense was being spared at this week long birthday jamboree: on one day we were expected to fork for helicopter rides at £55 a shot.)
There was an awkward moment when the four of us – me, TPR, X and Y – found ourselves alone together at a kitchen table. TPR broke the silence with an announcement that it was now legal for 15 year olds to drive in the UK. We all believed him until he cried ‘April Fool!’
I wondered what had become of February and March. Winter had passed so quickly this year.
I was so tired on the first night back at home after a long period away with work that I didn’t notice that anything was different. Even the next morning my first thought was only that the bathroom looked very clean. Then I noticed that the walls had changed colour from white to duck egg blue – and that all our bathroom ware had been replaced. There was no longer a traditional bath, but a huge shower with a cut out area in the base in which to soak. The entire colour scheme was ice blue. It was lovely!
When I stepped back into the bedroom I was in for a similar surprise. TPR had redecorated. Gone was the purple tulip wallpaper and in its place was a modern bold design in turquoise, green and gold featuring angular exotic birds. The bed had been moved to face the garden window, and above it two new windows had been added. The curtains had been changed to match the new colour scheme too. I was astonished that TPR had taken the initiative to do this on his own, and had chosen fabric that actually looked OK. I loved the new lighting too: three different types of lamp hung from the ceiling in clusters, including a chandelier.
Best of all, however, was my dressing table, which had been converted into a shrine of all things Moomin. It looked like half the stock of the Moomin store at Helsinki airport had been transported to our bedroom, including every possible trinket associated with the world’s most famous troll family.
KD and I stumbled across a new set of interesting shops in a mews building at the west end of Edinburgh. Amongst them was one that sold ethnic goods such as Turkish rugs and handcrafted wooden furniture from the Far East. It also housed live sheep and dogs of all different shapes and colours.
I thought I spotted a badger in the display. It turned out to be a dog that had been deliberately dyed black and white.
We didn’t stay long. KD objected to the smell, and I felt claustrophobic.
Dreamaticus 