On the day that the Assistant Principal came to observe my teaching everything went wrong.
I lay in the bath pondering the state of my surroundings. TPR had done his best to make minor repairs to the bathroom but they could hardly be called professional: the toilet roll holder was crammed into a corner where it was positioned off-centre, and all the tap fittings were wobbly.
Then I remembered that the man with the white rabbit had said that he was going to call over. I hauled myself out of the water and got dressed.
The white rabbit came in a cage, but wanted to be let out. I wasn’t sure about allowing it on the bedroom carpet so opened the back door so that the wee creature could go for a run across the lawn. What a mistake that was! It disappeared through the garden wall.
After a long trail through the streets of Edinburgh we found that the white rabbit had taken up residence in a pocket of countryside in the city centre, along with a couple of wild deer.
I missed the party. This was just as well because I, amongst others, knew that there really was nothing to celebrate. The hostess was well aware of this too. She communicated her dismay at her failed marriage in her choice of bottle green balloons. Her husband, however, gave the impression that he thought that there was nothing wrong at all – despite his massive outburst the previous weekend.
The next day a man in his late thirties collected the party hostess, one of the guests and me in his car. He said that he was taking us to visit Redmires on Elvaston Park Road, Hexham on account of its historical significance. A former British spy had once lived there. The house was also unique because only two families had ever owned it. The party hostess did not think this bestowed any significance upon the house at all, but climbed into the car anyway.
It soon became clear that our driver was, in fact, an undercover cop and that his real mission was to track down gun-toting gangs. He took us to a pretty churchyard where we parked illegally (much to the annoyance of the traffic warden until he flashed his ID at her). There we waited for a bunch of evil-looking men in top hats who drew up to the church car park in a fleet of stretch limos. Unfortunately the party guest forgot the status of our driver and related tales of drug taking at the party the night before, much to the embarrassment of the hostess. All was well, however, when we discovered that the undercover cop was, in fact, a fake. His ID had the same magical properties as that of Dr Who.
AM was interviewed first. Then it was my turn. By the end of the day each of us had been offered a chair at Northumbria University. How amazing that we would be working together!
We were both happy to be teaching in a department that understood our subjects, although I had to admit that I was slightly alarmed when asked to teach a first year option in French. My next issue was travel to work: could I commute across the border to Newcastle a couple of days a week, or would I need to buy a flat in the city?
The day was spoilt when one of my former students appeared out of nowhere brandishing a gun. Two others joined him. Inspired by recent US campus shootings, they were out to make a name for themselves as the first to export the practice to the UK.
AM and I were not ready to die. We strode straight past them, walked out the building, and caught the tram home.
KA abandoned her own family and moved in with mine. She took the rooms above the annex that we rented out to a potter and other craftspeople. I was worried when I heard that my mother did all the cleaning. I couldn’t work out how she managed to climb the spiral staircase up to KA’s quarters, especially since it comprised only the banister and no steps.
One day I called over to see how KA was getting on in her new home. The whole ground floor was flooded and I had to swim my way in through water clouded with clay deposits. It was too late when I realised that in doing so I had exposed my iPhone to a soaking, and that it would never work again.
AY was struggling to identify a job for herself from holiday brochures. I advised that she look at the careers literature instead. I recommended that she consider training as a social worker.
This conversation took place at her parents’ house. I was a little distressed that above the fireplace were displayed two large photos of them with A and C next to a big tree, but none of me and TPR.
DM (again – the school friend of my sister) showed us the way to the station. From here we took the local train to York. During the short journey I handed over my MacBook Air and iPhone to TPR. Although it pained me to do so, I knew that he would need these treasured devices more than me.
At York we parted. I headed north again while he caught a train to Manchester for a connection to Bristol. We would not meet again until TPR was established in his new life. In the meantime his first priority was to find a job.
Dreamaticus 
Inspired by Bill Hicks (Rousse)
Part of the comedy challenge for the four performers was to include mention of audience members in their sets.
Suddenly I was very popular. It wasn’t my contributions to I’m sorry I haven’t a clue that attracted the attention of the comedians. Rather, when they found out I had worked with Bill Hicks, they were desperate for my comments and suggestions on their scripts.
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