Secret sex with students (Rousse)

X wanted to move to the same Californian seaside town where I had settled. The first job he took there was as a waiter, but he had an eye on something more exciting – teaching watersports to children.

I tried to put in an advance order with him for my morning bowl of muesli. He suggested that I would save money if I just went down to the car park at the shore where breakfast cereals were available free of charge. You could also help yourself to summer dresses.

On our way to this source of free food and clothing X reminded me that we had slept together when he was my student. It was so long ago that I had almost forgotten.

“Don’t tell TPR”, I said. “He wouldn’t want to know this”.

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Child thieves adopt boy scout disguise in cash raids on Lake District hotels (Rousse)

On the final day of the conference in the Lake District I packed my bag, checked in online for my flight to Amsterdam, and then wandered down to the hotel dining room to ask for a sandwich (in French). Although service for lunch was almost over, the head waiter said that the kitchen staff could make something up for me. I chose a large seed roll from the bread basket and requested a filling of ‘jambon et fromage’.

Afterwards I joined the others for a final walk outside. CS led us down to the tall thin multi-arched bridge designed by her husband AH. It served no purpose whatsoever, other than as an architectural ornament from which to enjoy the view across the lake.

We climbed up to the top of the bridge to watch the planes come in to the airport to the west. An EasyJet flight almost took out a chef who was sitting on top of a distant skyscraper. We guessed that he was doing the same as us, admiring the view from the other direction.

Then we left the bridge to continue down to the lake. A little way along water’s edge, and further than most tourists would venture, we discovered discovered a sandy beach. The water was so warm and inviting here that some members of our party couldn’t resist a swim. ETS jumped in fully-clothed for her dip.

Later I returned to the hotel to make a final check before our departure. In my room I apprehended a bunch of child thieves rummaging through my belongings on a hunt for cash. I saw through their pathetic boy scout disguise. When questioned they didn’t even know the Boy Scout Motto, and there was no chance that they would be able to recite the Boy Scout Promise. I retrieved my leather pouch of loose change from the clutches of the ringleader and then marched the boys off to their adult leader. She had no idea that her scout troop had been infiltrated by this bunch of baby criminals.

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Tibetan monks in icy ponds, packs of dogs on snowfields, and a wrong turn to the Blairgowrie 10k (Rousse)

NP, DT, WB and I were all running in the Blairgowrie 10K. We were supported by TPR, JM, SF, my parents and C the cocker spaniel.

We drove up the A9 in separate cars. I was in the back seat of our Stilo with JM, while TPR and my parents sat in the front. I was quite enjoying the journey, listening to a play on Radio 4 – until we hit the mountains and the broadcast signal cut out.

The outskirts of Blairgowrie offered the strange spectacle of Tibetan monks lying flat on their backs, deep in meditation, in icy ponds. Meanwhile packs of dogs ran free across the snowfields that marked the boundaries between each council estate. This was not how I remembered Blairgowrie from my last visit.

Then TPR admitted his terrible mistake. He’d taken the wrong turning off the A9. We were not on the outskirts of Blairgowrie after all, but some other highland town. It was impossible to identify our location. All we knew was that we were a long way from our intended destination.

It was 11:10 now and the race started at half past. We’d lost the race without even reaching the starting line.

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Back to the future (Belle)

It was the 1980s again and I was living in an abandoned sweatshop on Brick Lane with a much better version of my (worst ever) boyfriend.   He’d become a nice person and I had a really great haircut and a new tattoo on my shoulder.  I was working to raise money for the miners, looking for (and knowing I deserved!) a better job and listening to Scritti Politti.  The 1980s were so much better the second time around!

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Princess Anne, a posh prat, polar bears, and perfume preferences (Rousse)

We’d all worked hard on the show for months. Even S played an active role, kindly agreeing to deliver the opening address. I did wonder, however, if she now regretted this offer given the fuss that I was making over every single word of her speech.

What none of us knew was that Princess Anne would be in the audience. She turned up dressed in a long brown wool wrap skirt. On her feet she wore black cotton socks under brown all-terrain sandals. I’d never noticed before that her hair was red like mine.

In the interval one of the men in our party made a beeline for the royal guest. Pressing his body up against hers, he proposed a trip to visit some polar bears. I could tell that Princess Anne was not happy. I made my way over to extract her from the clutches of this posh prat.

Relieved to see me, Princess Anne turned away from the man and started a new conversation about perfume. We were both delighted to learn that we shared a love of Yves St Laurent’s Opium. (Apparently the Queen can’t stand the slightest whiff of it.)

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Queen’s safety comprised by ‘sleepover break-in’ at Grey Gables (Rousse)

We were all invited to Grey Gables for New Year’s Eve so I didn’t think it would make much difference if we arrived a day early. Surely Peggy Woolley wouldn’t mind?

We walked past the gardeners who were planting up flower beds to cheer up the borders around the house in readiness for the party. Once inside we looked for a suitable bed for the night. All four of us – me, JGT, JGT’s brother Rhys (who I had mistakenly been calling Eric most of the day) and my sister-in-law SG – squeezed in under the bobbled cotton sheets, where we managed a reasonable night’s sleep. We were delighted that nobody had noticed us – or so we thought.

The next morning all four of us were arrested by Special Branch. Our crime: endangering the monarch’s life. Our only defence was that had we known that the Queen was in residence at Grey Gables, we would have kept well away.

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Strathpeffer: highland holiday destination (Rousse)

My mission was to restore Strathpeffer to the glory of its Victorian status of sought-after spa town and top holiday resort. Braving the midges I set off along the river to the ornate former railway station, which I heard had recently been converted into a restaurant.

Already I could see that some additional signage would make ‘riverside walks’ a popular holiday activity. I wondered what the food would be like in the restaurant.

Instead of a dining room, I found a pool inside the building. Around the edge with their bodies almost submerged, some ‘swimmers’ sat in silence. Others were strapped into white plastic chairs that were being pulled along in the water by an attendant. I wanted to experience the chair therapy, but all places were taken. I waited a long time for my turn, during which I almost accidentally drowned a disabled person at the water’s edge. In the end I discovered that it really wasn’t worth hanging around to be dragged through lukewarm water by a bored council worker.

Strathpeffer had some way to go before I could recommend it as a top twenty-first century holiday destination.

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What to do at Grand Central Station (Rousse)

At Grand Central Station in New York we would regroup for the next leg of our journey. In the meantime I scattered my business cards in the hope of widening my network of work contacts. I then returned to my failed attempts at frightening my younger female relations.

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The Emperor of China, Tom Forrest, an absent wife, and a widower (Rousse)

Ancient tradition in China required the donning of a long black robe (similar to an academic gown) whenever the emperor visited. Every day during my imprisonment I was on standby for this eventuality. Meanwhile I joined in with the activities as best I could despite my inability to speak a word of the language of my ‘hosts’. I soon became very adept at sign language.

On the day that the emperor came calling I rushed upstairs to the newly-painted black and green bedroom to root out my robe. I knew I would be in big trouble if I were not appropriately dressed. Seated on the bed, AF watched me. I then returned back downstairs again to greet the honoured guest. He didn’t actually speak to me. Instead I explained to one of his minders by means of hand gestures that I had travelled far to visit this ancient land.

Later I somehow managed to escape the compound of the house. I wandered along the edge of a lake where I came across some other foreigners who had decided that they actually wanted to visit China.

Further along my route it became obvious that I had breached the border. Here there were many more westerners, and all the signage was in English. I noticed a banner for a talk on fishing by Tom Forrest. This confused me: did they mean the Archers actor Bob Arnold, who played Tom Forrest? If so, wasn’t he dead?

Of course, by now, all I really wanted was to be reunited with my darling TPR. I wandered the streets and bars looking for him. Eventually I saw him come into a restaurant. He’d put on a bit of weight during my absence, but this was definitely him in his chinos and blue shirt.

When he sat down at a table I did the same opposite him. He looked so sad on his own, and I couldn’t understand why he was not delighted to see me. It was only then that I realised that my long time away had rendered me invisible. From now on although I would be able to see TPR, he would have no idea of my presence. We would never spend any time together as a couple again. Effectively I had disappeared from his life and he was now a widower, left to face the rest of his life on his own.

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