Getting rid of an unwanted Spanish husband (Rousse)

Posted on September 21, 2015 by Dreamaticus

What on earth had I done by marrying a weedy Spaniard? I was in love with TPR!

Communication between me and my new husband was very poor, and I didn’t even fancy the silly little man. He made such a fuss carrying a framed poster from the bus to the hotel. TPR would have balanced it on his little finger.

When TPR came back from his walk with two women in anoraks I invited him to join me on the quayside. He hurt his ankle when we leapt down to the lower pier, but soon recovered sufficiently to reassure me that all would be OK – provided that I had only dreamt of marrying the Spaniard.

‘The problem is that this is real life’ I replied. ‘But if I don’t consummate the marriage (perish the thought!), he’ll have grounds for divorce, and then I will be free to marry you again.’

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Settling for less than a six-pack (Rousse)

Posted on September 20, 2015 by Dreamaticus

Long-term bachelor RA decided that it was time he married. He fancied that I would accept a proposal. Since TPR had been abroad for so long, and had more or less forgotten about me, I agreed to a meeting with RA to discuss the options.

I sized up RA as we chatted in the bar. I was so used to sharing my life with a super-fit man that I wasn’t sure that I could fancy someone who did not sport a six-pack. Then RA started flirting with the woman at the next table. This was pointless: was he interested in me or not?

I left RA at the bar and took the train to Tunisia. As I stood on a crowded North African beach watching the sun set over the Mediterranean I questioned whether my visit was safe. What was the advice of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office?

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Burn marks on a hardwood floor (Rousse)

Posted on September 20, 2015 by Dreamaticus

With just one day to go we were meant to be preparing the house for N and S’s wedding, not destroying it.

TPR should have listened to us when we told him not to move the fireplace. How was he going to explain to the bride and groom all the scorches on their brand new £6000 hardwood parquet floor?

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A missed holiday in France (Rousse)

Posted on September 19, 2015 by Dreamaticus

It came as a complete surprise to find so many familiar faces at the Hebridean guest house, including many of my school friends. TPR would get to meet LT and HT at long last!

Then we remembered the mysterious message. A couple of weeks earlier someone had told us to look under our car. We had followed this instruction but had seen nothing there.

With some extra help we looked again. We found a red sheet of A4 paper with directions to an address in France. If we’d seen this earlier, we could have had an extra week on holiday with my school friends.

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The Manor House: an historical account (Rousse)

Posted on September 19, 2015 by Dreamaticus

The journalist thrust a microphone into my face and demanded that I gave a full history of the Manor House from its origins as an eighteenth century farm house to the severe fire damage of July 2014.

As we travelled on the buggy from the tennis court to the main entrance I recalled what I could of the house’s history, including its long association with the Cadbury family and the University of Birmingham. My interviewer was most interested, however, in the period when I lived there as an undergraduate. I reminisced about those happy days of the 1980s, highlighting all the fabulous formal dinners, parties and balls.

The buggy then suddenly, and unexpectedly, transformed into an open-topped tank. The interview came to an abrupt halt when the caterpillar tracks climbed some boxy hedging and we were thrown out onto the lawn.

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Smoked salmon and snazzy dance moves (Rousse)

Posted on September 15, 2015 by Dreamaticus

It was the start of the new academic year and, as usual, I was busy serving smoked salmon to a long line of students.

Afterwards my sister’s school friend DM led me to the dance floor. What a mover! He returned my compliments on his steps, noting that J was a great dancer too. I thought I better say that S also knew some great moves. I didn’t want her to be left out.

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Pregnancy and dresses (Rousse)

Posted on September 14, 2015 by Dreamaticus

DT was recording every detail of her pregnancy in a small black notebook. The latest news concerned body parts that were really of no consequence given that we already knew that the baby was a boy.

JB didn’t want to hear any more about this. She would probably have been more interested in WB and BP’s conversation about dresses (in English) at the party later in the day.

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Rik Mayall and a metal spoon (Rousse)

Posted on September 12, 2015 by Dreamaticus

I could tell that the other passengers disapproved as I chased Rick Mayall around Gatwick airport, striking him on the forehead with a large metal spoon.

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Getting rid of an ex (Rousse)

Posted on September 10, 2015 by Dreamaticus

I wondered if I would ever get rid of my ex-boyfriend?

This was no way for him to win back my heart, moping around dwelling on what could have been. He should also have paid heed to the ‘competition’. Nobody could ever live up to TPR.

Nevertheless, I was kind. I (re)introduced to him to CC’s ex-boyfriend (also back and causing trouble), showed him the silly photographs of me with JS’s daughter (we were jumping on he pavement outside my flat), and listened to him as he whinged about how his two-day a week job barely kept him busy.

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Looking for the space shuttle and hunting for a dress with no knickers (Rousse)

Posted on September 6, 2015 by Dreamaticus

There was so much to do between lying on the roof with PC and a pair of binoculars looking out for the space shuttle above to deciding on an outfit for the church service in the village.

The latter was a bit of a worry. I’d only agreed to attend the service because my French friends wanted to confirm their suspicions that the British didn’t even dress up for church. Of course now I was completely stressed out over what I would wear. Both of my guests looked very sharp in their understated designer summer coats, while I was still wandering around in an untidy top that only just covered my bare bottom.

In the end I settled on the dress that HJ gave me in July. All I needed to do now was battle the crowds to reach my bedroom to extract it from the wardrobe.

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