BMcK emerged through the gloom of the bottom level of an empty multi-storey car park.
“Go away!” I shrieked. “You’re meant to be dead!”.
BMcK emerged through the gloom of the bottom level of an empty multi-storey car park.
“Go away!” I shrieked. “You’re meant to be dead!”.
Apparently a national newspaper was about to report what XY-Z said to NP as witnessed by LM. This could get messy.
The stranger was astonished when I guessed that he was a city worker who had retired early from a career in finance. I was almost right: he’d spent his entire working life at the Treasury.
After queuing for my food at the buffet table (and waiting for a fresh supply of skewered prawns) I looked around for my new friend. I thought that he would make a good dining companion so hoped to sit with him.
Unfortunately all the places at his table were taken so I took my plate of food to the shoreline. There I could watch the seals in the sunshine as I ate. The hotel proprietor called me straight back from the water’s edge. If I sat there, I’d be swept into the sea as soon as the tide came in.
I now needed to find somewhere else to sit so I wandered over to the tennis umpire’s chair. If I were able to climb up here, this would make a good vantage point.
As I put my foot on the bottom step of the ladder to climb up to the chair I heard some guards make rude remarks about Dame Kelly Holmes.
This was the kind of puppy I liked: small, soft, furry and friendly – and house-trained at 12 weeks.
P and S sold their place in the country as they moved nearly all their investments out of property. They were now living in a modest 1970s semi on a small housing estate.
P invited a bunch of school friends round to the new house for a small reunion. There were three tables set up in the dining room for a meal. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a big Siamese cat creep to over to my table to eye up our food. I pushed it away, only to see a tiger enter the room!
Before long I had counted six further species of big cat resident at P and S’s house. Their new abode was a feline zoo.
I was proud of my student who advised the stranger on the street of impending assignment submission deadlines. However, I felt that I had to butt in and say that this sort of enquiry should really be routed to the school office rather than a new friend.
My student took this very badly. She thought that I was being critical of her kindness. This was not my intention at all.
I bumped into my school friend KC (wearing a hideous pale blue fake satin 1980s style ballgown) and her daughter K at a service station on the M5. The daughter explained that she had just finished teacher training. She asked if I could offer her any career advice. “Don’t go into teaching”, I replied.
Towards the end of the conversation I acknowledged that KC was not wearing a wedding ring and that her daughter’s surname was not the same as her own. “That’s because D and I are getting divorced” said KC. “You’ll read more about it in our Christmas newsletter”.
JC and I sat at the dinner table desperate to join in the conversation across the room. An Italian mother was making a hopeless attempt to teach her native language to her English-speaking children.
Both JC and I could do a much better job of this.
My sister JMH and I shared a small double bed in a tiny hotel room positioned high above an Outer Hebridean bay. Others, including my old school friend HP, used our room as a thoroughfare.
One morning when we looked out of the window we saw a high tidal wave flood the bay. Carried along in the surge of water were seals and dolphins – and tuna fish the size of whales.