DT danced down the hall to ‘oldies’ on my ancient iPhone 3. Then she boogied into the bathroom where she picked up a blister pack of tablets.
‘Oh, let’s try these!’ she called to WB.
‘Not so fast’ I said.
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Because I am saving them for their rarity value. They were manufactured in 1629.’
TPR bobbed about in a wooden rowing boat in the bay without a care in the world – until he noticed that my arm was turning red in the sun. He remembered that he had packed sunblock and leant over to pull it out of the rucksack.
The boat tipped over and we fell into the cold water. After flailing around for some time we emerged close to the shore, relieved to feel the muddy sand squelching under our feet.
I was privileged to take part in a dress rehearsal of Downton Abbey in Hexham two days before it was broadcast live.
It was a mistake to allow toddler N, who I had only ‘met’ online before, to use the blender to make soup. The orange gunge went everywhere.
The friendly policeman hovered at the door and told me about his quest for counterfeit coins. I pretended that I knew nothing, even though I had stacks of the large silver ones planted outside as garden ornaments.
Then I got back to telling SC that he was a very lazy boy for taking a bus the tiny distance from Canonmills up to York Place.
I thought that I would help BP out by collecting his finished job from the Print Room and taking it up to the meeting. The problem was that I was unfamiliar with the lift system on campus.
I couldn’t work out which lift went up which floors and accidentally ended up at the far side of campus in a lift that served the main library. Inside it a mother and her two small children were fast asleep under a couple of thin grey rugs. I later learned that they were homeless and that the library lift was the best shelter on winter nights.
I was also surprised to discover that the library was hosting book signings just like those in book shops. I walked past a famous author chatting to his fans as he put his signature to copies of his latest orange-jacketed novel. I had no idea who he was, but he appeared to be very popular.
I reached the meeting half an hour late. EH had instructed everyone to analyse a poem. I worked out that I was the only one there qualified to tackle this task. I was proved right when the work was handed in. I had written a mini essay, whereas my more technical colleagues had barely managed to scribble a couple of lines.
I knocked an ornament off the table, but the owner didn’t seem to mind. At least it didn’t break.
My good turn for the day was to warn a student in a red jumper called Neil that if he continued leaving class early, he risked poor references from his tutors when applying for jobs later in the year.
The class went on and on. No wonder I was distracted and left my handbag behind. I did not notice this until I was well on my way to Corstorphine with CI. I had to break into a house full of antiques to find the classroom again.
I decided to accompany MP through the airport on the trip home from the Caribbean. My temporary partner of choice was wearing suit trousers and a tie, and it was more likely that he would be upgraded than would scruffy old TPR.
On the top deck of the bus I showed everyone the drugs that I had acquired (and would sell) to enhance computer game playing performance.
Dreamaticus 