TPR and I had completely under-estimated the work that goes into a house move. We thought that we could just come home from holiday, pack a few boxes, pop up to Aberdeen for a pizza with V and C, and that would be it. For example, we hadn’t bargained on the amount of time it takes to show the house to potential buyers.
We cancelled the pizza and settled down to the long job of packing.
My long-dead red-lipsticked granny and I clung to the sea wall bracing ourselves for the next wave. Although the scene might have looked tropical with its smattering of palm trees along the shoreline, this was the north east coast of England, and the water was freezing.
We passed the time discussing the merits of the Marks and Spencer store card.
In a chaotic ceremony, I married Ian Craig, a character in The Archers. I wore a crumpled second-hand gown, while Ian looked smart and handsome in his morning suit. With no photographer, I was relying on our guests to capture the event on their mobile phones. Unfortunately I looked awful in every single picture. Later my new husband insisted on ‘breaking wind’ in my face.
The four beautiful sisters welcomed me into my family. I was very much enjoying my holiday with them until the afternoon when I got stuck on a cliff ledge above the swimming pool.
Clinging to the red rock edge, I tried to work out whether it would be safer for me to attempt to climb back up the cliff or jump down into the water. I really needed to exhibit the same bravery as the fairies. They leapt from great heights into the water below without a care in the world.
My sister S’s bedroom had always been a terrible mess, but I had no idea that it was now so dirty that trees had started growing in the soil. Before long the room would be transformed into a forest.
TPR and I really needed to get our act together. First, we should carry our mobile phones at all times. This would have saved us the trauma of losing one another in France. Then TPR had to cut down on his extra-curricular activities if we were to present ourselves as a model couple to the journalist.
We discussed our plans while lying on the lawn looking up at our new house: a 1930 sandstone semi decorated with gargoyles.
Everyone was there, including TPR, JM, DT, KJ, NP and SF. JLW arrived a little later with a present for me: some fun photos of the pair of us that she had purchased from a Blipfoto booth.
At first it seemed that we would just spend the evening sitting around and chatting. This suited me because I was only wearing a very thin silk nightie and was worried that it would become immodest if I moved about the room. Then someone reached over for a box on a shelf behind him.
“Here is the brain” he announced. “Please find a partner”.
I soon realised that “the brain” in question was not a body part, but a board game. I was desperately disappointed that JM was sitting at the other side of the room – too far away for me to pair up with him. I would just have to take my chances with the stranger sitting next to me.
Upstairs at the White House in my sister S’s room, the cocker spaniel puppy would not let go of my hand. His alligator teeth were well and truly clamped into my skin. I really had to shake him off before he did any damage.
Then I struck on an idea. What if I just ignored him? I stopped paying him and attention and within seconds C decided that I wasn’t worth bothering with after all.
I was now free to make a visit to the upstairs lavatory unaccompanied by a dog.
I was both amazed and appalled to discover an office full of colleagues on campus working at 02:00 in the morning.
One was just about to pack up and go home to his wife and children, but would only manage a maximum of three hours of sleep before being obliged to return for another full day of teaching.
The research students seem the happiest members of the group. They were gathered around JS chatting in an animated fashion about their studies.
DT and KJ came to visit our new flat on the top floor of an old house built into the hills. KJ was not convinced that it was an improvement on our old place. I argued that it was. This was on the basis that the kitchen was so huge that you could hang all the bed sheets to dry on a line indoors.
Dreamaticus 