An Edinburgh colony house visit (Rousse)

I met LK sitting on the narrow pavement outside her colony house on Easter Road. She wanted to show me her garden so we left her two daughters by the roadside and I followed her through the main door of her building into the gloomy stairwell. There was very little room in here and I immediately felt claustrophobic, especially under the long white bed sheets that were hanging out to dry from the banister rail.

Once back outside again, however, it was lovely to see the elderly residents of Edinburgh enjoying their gardens. I was also impressed by the long back green, ideal for children’s ball games.

Then LK took me up to her flat. I climbed into her son’s bed and checked his application for a place on a degree course at Robert Gordon University. At the same time I explained to LK the difference between GCSE, AS and A levels.

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England v Sweden: where to watch the match (Rousse)

Belle and I debated where we should spend our evening together. The final choice depended on who won the football. We really wanted to be with the fans of the victors, whether or not England beat Sweden.

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Birmingham graduate destinations: deep sea diving, death, and a hot rod librarian (Rousse)

We were all travelling on the Birmingham University French 1986 graduates’ bus. DM passed along the aisle offering cups of tea. I told her that TPR and I had made a brief visit to Rhyl and she said that we should have called in on her. She could have taken us deep sea diving! If we still fancied a dip, we would be welcome to join her and her husband on holiday on their boat in the tropics.

The woman on the coach sitting next to me was older than the rest of us. She spoke with a West Midlands accent and told us that her family came from Coventry. When we asked why she had joined us for the day she explained that she was representing her son David Limmington. David had died 16 years earlier from food poisoning after eating five figs at a buffet reception in the library were he worked.

Another participant called everyone to attention. He now worked as a microphone man for BBC3. He recommended that everyone watch his latest show, Hot rod librarian. He played some footage so that we would get a flavour of it. Two beautiful silver faces were talking to one another. At first they looked like SB and HJ, but as the camera panned in they were revealed to be a couple of sweet wrappers in the gutter.

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The secret night visitor (Rousse)

The H family bought a white 1970s house in a small close not far from our bedsit.

I preferred their place over ours: there was so much more space. So I would regularly sneak into their sitting room late at night and sleep on the floor between E and J in their single beds.

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A cold shoulder for book group defectors (Rousse)

When EH and I climbed into the car for our lift to work we could not understand why JS was so cold towards us.

She soon provided an explanation. She’d cooked up a feast the night before for our book group meeting, and was very disappointed that neither of us had turned up to eat it.

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How to keep warm when sleeping in a pond (Rousse)

TPR and I slept outdoors, afloat in a pond. The trick to keeping warm was to move the mattress into the sunlight whenever possible.

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Academic exclusion (Rousse)

My boss chastised me for not meeting my targets. As punishment I was to spend two days in solitary confinement.

On reflection I realised that this was completely unfair. I had actually exceeded all my targets. I complained and the punishment was cancelled.

Meanwhile JK was all a-panic. A very distinguished guest was coming to speak and – as far as she could tell – there would not be an audience for him. She shared her fears with me in the newly-appointed women’s toilets, recently painted shocking pink. I agreed to encourage everyone to come along.

In the event the house was packed. I tried to save some seats for my niece A and three of her friends, but this was impossible.

As I was hunting for a row with five empty places the lights went down and the machinery swallowed up the staircase. I was enveloped by a metal funnel, carried some distance, then deposited in a book display. I would not be attending the lecture after all.

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Change your hair, change your life (Rousse)

Following years of misery XY finally cheered up. She chopped her long lanky hair into a punky Siouxsie Sioux style, dyed it jet black, and started to smile.

When she returned to her student haunts everyone was amazed at what a new hairstyle could achieve.

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The sad fate of a cute snow-white baby bear cub (Rousse)

I chased TPR over the moorland and past the skiers who were racing down to the loch along a single strip of snow. When TPR threw his sticks in the air and dropped over a steep cliff I thought that I had lost him forever – but he came back, carrying an extremely cute, cuddly, snow-white baby bear cub!

Just as I was about to take the cub into my arms a gamekeeper approached and demanded that TPR release the animal back into the wild. It needed to be left to grow so that there would be plenty of game for future ‘sport’.

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A ladybird problem and an excess of dry goods at Bridge Farm, Ambridge (Rousse)

While a guest of Pat and Tony Archer at Bridge Farm I supervised some final year undergraduates as they completed a maths and genetics project. The assessment task involved the breeding of super-strength ladybirds and storing them in jars. In each jar you had to double the number of ladybirds. So, in the first jar there was one ladybird, in the second two, in the third four, in the fourth eight, in the fifth sixteen and so on.

In the last stage of the work the students had one jar left to fill. This was the fourth one, where eight ladybirds were required. A sole member of the team was charged with this task: a tall, lanky, blond lad with very little to say for himself. I helped by chasing around the room and catching the airborne ladybirds in my cupped hands. Unfortunately I held them too tight and crushed them into a blackened mess. There were no other ladybirds left to catch. This was a crisis: the students were eight insects short of completing the project.

Although normally I would not condone cheating, my part in the ‘failure’ of the task led me to suggest that the student raid the 1024 jar for eight ladybirds. I was pretty sure that the markers wouldn’t bother to count the insects in the larger jars, whereas they would certainly do this for the smaller ones.

Later, when checking for some basic cooking ingredients in the kitchen, I was surprised to find huge quantities of dry foods such as pasta, rice and pulses stockpiled at Bridge Farm. It looked like Pat Archer had not done any home cooking for years.

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