An audience with the Queen at Buckingham Palace (Rousse)

By the time Granny H and I reached Buckingham Palace to interview the Queen my feet were terribly blistered from wearing the pale blue shoes. TPR had borrowed them a couple of days earlier to wear to DT’s party and had stretched them. Now they rubbed mercilessly against my tender skin.

I considered popping into a shoe shop at the top of the Mall to buy more suitable footwear, but Granny H said that we did not have time to do so. Our appointment at the palace was for 12:15 and it was already 12:10.

The palace itself was surprisingly busy. When I learnt that the royal family was now renting out rooms for office space I understood why there were long queues at the various security check-points. We almost mistakenly ended up in the line for the Belgian Consulate.

At the last security gate the official considered my letter of invitation and the interview questions that we had prepared. She gave us the code for the lift and waved us through. All we needed now was someone tall enough to reach up to the button for the second floor and our audience with the Queen could begin.

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AC/DC in concert in China (Rousse)

AC/DC were playing in China. Since I was there on a work trip I decided to go along to the concert.

BP made a block booking of tickets and organised for us to reach the venue by coach (which I almost missed because I thought I had lost my purse and iPhone when they were, in fact, safely stored in a red mesh bag).

I couldn’t find anyone willing to visit the tourist attractions with me after the show. The sweet girl on hotel reception wasn’t interested, nor was my colleague RK, who had seen everything the day before.

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Caring for the elderly (Rousse)

My father didn’t intend any harm, but when he drove into PH from behind as a joke the old man fell directly on his nose and suffered much pain. I knew that it was my job to help him now, and to organise all his care arrangements from now on.

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Preparations for a stag weekend on the Mediterranean island of Lancoste (Rousse)

We were taking a look around the catholic cathedral where we unexpectedly bumped into NS. He slipped his arm around me and steered a course past the amazing architecture of the building.

Afterwards we joined the rest of the Edinburgh Coffee Morning boys, all wearing animal masks, practising for KJ’s stag weekend on the Mediterranean island of Lancoste.

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New Ullapool-Stornoway ferry service declared ‘hopeless’ as passenger almost drowns (Rousse)

My sister, brother-in-law, nephew, niece and I were all travelling to the Isle of Lewis. The new ferry service was hopeless.

My sister made the journey even more miserable for me by refusing access to a change of clothes and my computer.

Then I fell overboard into the water and nearly drowned.

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A hunt for Christopher Biggins near the offices of Forth FM (Rousse)

We cycled round and round the Leith roundabout, two of us sharing the bike. We discussed the dilemmas of parenthood for the single woman. For example, it is better to foster then adopt? Or should one return the fostered children to social services in the hope of finding a man to marry and then have children of one’s own? I favoured the former strategy because it gives the children a loving home. I also thought it deceitful to marry a man solely on the basis that he could provide you with a family.

We suspected that our roundabout circling would attract the attention of Forth FM DJs whose offices looked out onto the street. It did not.

After our deliberations we came off the roundabout and set off to hunt for Christopher Biggins, who worked in a nearby office. All we found, however, was a gathering of Edinburgh’s top techies, including (of course) JM.

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Advantages of wasting away (Rousse)

TPR and I struggled to find privacy anyway. There were even passengers queuing for ferries in my bedroom at the White House.

I walked into the upstairs kitchen where I found my shrunken sister. At under 5 foot in height and weighing less than 7 stone, JMH was tiny. She looked fabulous to me, even though she was ill.

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A top floor house sale and an errant husband confesses (Rousse)

As soon as KA told me the date of her party I knew that there would be a problem. I had to be in Reading on that date. However, I arranged things so that I could call in at her flat on the day of the event just before I set off on my long journey south by car.

When I looked up to the top floor flat from the street I saw a “For sale” sign attached to one of the outside windows. It was now clear that I’d been invited to the reverse of a house warming party. How exciting!

Inside the common staircase and walls were coated with yellow gunge. I tried as carefully as I could but, even so, by the time I reached the top floor my shoes were caked in the vile substance. KA informed me that the gunge had not put off potential purchasers, and that someone had already offered to buy the flat.

I stayed at the party for an hour or so, chatting to the only other early guest. This was KMcM, an old friend from the Manor House at the University of Birmingham. Then I left for Reading.

It was along and confusing drive, especially with regards to bus lane priorities, but I made it and soon settled down to work at my destination. I had almost finished everything by 12:40 the next day, so at that point I rang TPR to ask if he was ready to meet me.

TPR sounded terrible down the line. My call had clearly woken him, and it sounded like he was hungover. He reported that he had a confession. He didn’t need to say any more: I knew exactly what he had done. However, it did come as a surprise to learn that his new love was Edinburgh Internet entrepreneur KH. I was not prepared to let him go easily and reminded him that I would be at his sister’s 50th birthday party next month, whether he liked it or not.

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What to do when you miss a charter flight, and fancy lace underwear (Rousse)

TF came with us on a winter sports holiday package included both skiing and tandem riding.

On the last day there was some confusion over access to the hotel. I was lucky enough to find my room (eventually) although its condition was not ideal: there was rain coming in through the ceiling. I did not complain because the staff already had far too much else to deal with.

On departure day we set out on tandem ride as usual, zipping down the snowy lanes looking out for wildlife. (I saw a bird of prey capture a vole at one point when I was steering the bike all by myself.) We had completely forgotten about the 05:00am transfer to the airport and our journey home.

Back at the house rented by my mother and JMH we discussed what to do about our missed charter flight. TPR believed that we could make a claim from the tour operator because no notification of departure arrangements had been pushed through our bedroom door the night before. JC, who was also staying with my mother and JMH, suggested that we extend our holiday, arguing that I wouldn’t be missed at the office. Meanwhile I undressed down to my fancy lace underwear and wondered whether it was NB that I could see in the window of the house across the road.

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Poor lavatory location and an inadequate fire alarm (Rousse)

There was no mistake: this bed and breakfast was awful.

How had they got away with positioning a toilet in the tiny dining room, and what use was a fire alarm system that relied on the proprietors shouting ‘Fire, fire’?

TPR and I couldn’t wait to leave, plotting our escape by bike with others from a café table on the main street of Peebles.

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