The Player-Slayer was on the loose in south Edinburgh.
Runners were warned to be vigilant on the cycle path that connected the Craiglockhart and Merchiston campuses of Edinburgh Napier University. I ensured that I was accompanied whenever I ran this route between meetings.
It made no sense at all to open a private members’ club for us and the rest of our immediate neighbours at the opposite end of town, but it appeared that we had no choice in the matter.
On my first visit there I found PC cutting up large sections of bubble wrap to cover a series of picture books for his children.
The first I heard of the shooting of members of the British royal family was when I turned on the television news and saw live footage of Princess Anne and her daughter under fire.
As she fled the scene, I was again reminded of how much the daughter looked like my sister-in-law SMcC. She was even wearing a pale blue and white striped sweatshirt just like S’s.
I left my rucksack unattended one time too many when I was helping my mother navigate Edinburgh airport. This time both my MacBook Air and iPad mini were stolen. I only had myself to blame for this calamity.
There was room for about a dozen of us in BW-H’s massive new house. Most of us had our own rooms. Those who did not were comfortable enough, including B’s friend John who slept on a sofa bed on the big landing. The house was, however, rather untidy, so ET-S and I set to work on a spring clean (of sorts).
Later – in the now-respectable sitting room – disaster struck. I chipped both my front teeth on a mug of Earl Grey tea. I now looked like Plug of the Beano’s Bash Street Kids. How would I get through a day at work resembling a comic strip character?
I made things worse by applying pink make-up to my face in haphazard fashion. I couldn’t correct my mistake because I had no make-up remover on me – and nor did anyone else in the men’s toilets.
“It’s your mother on the phone” shouted TPR from the far side of our US hotel bedroom.
I took the call. My mother had rung to discover the real reason why I was spending so much time at the ‘other’ side of the Atlantic. I explained that I was here to deliver some presentations, advise PhD students, and run a major international conference – and nothing more. I could tell from the tone of her voice that she feared a hidden agenda that might result in my leaving the UK forever.
In the background I could hear my father having a similar conversation with my sister J, currently in Canada.
I woke at 3:30am to find that TPR was not in the bed next to me.
I found him in the sitting room, cradling a bottle of whisky, talking to a running pal of old. (This man was somewhat larger than I remembered. Perhaps he had given up veganism?)
I ordered both of them to their beds.
We were really pleased to be the new next door neighbours of T and S in a house that had stairs. We could now be keyholders for one another.
The only problem was that we couldn’t remember anybody’s name. So when our old upstairs neighbours A and E came to visit we were unable to introduce them to T and S. We just hoped that they would work it all out for themselves.
My mother told us all that she had never felt better – since her vasectomy.
Dreamaticus 