Animal magic in the Edinburgh New Town (Rousse)

I rushed back into the study with my camera to photograph the orange toucans perched in the tree at the window. Two minutes earlier had been beside myself with excitement when I learnt that members of this exotic species had flocked in their hundreds to Edinburgh to set up home!

However, by the time I made my return to the room I discovered that the toucans had been replaced by a family of monkeys. Then suddenly the view from the window switched to a different jungle scene.

It was only then that I understood that there were, in fact, no tropical wildlife settling into a new life in the chilly north. Someone was projecting repeats of BBC1’s Animal magic onto the wall of our yard.

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An appointment on the Isle of Skye with Hugh MacLeod of MacLeod (Rousse)

Strangers helped me pack my bike for the journey to the farthest reaches of the Isle of Skye. It was a long way, and I had probably left setting off too late in the day for any hope of arriving in daylight. However, I had faith that the power of the north westerly wind would push me up the island, and that I would reach my important appointment on time.

Clan chief Hugh MacLeod of MacLeod had summoned me to Dunvegan Castle, and I was keen to hear what he had to say.

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Edinburgh’s worst driver (Rousse)

TPR leapt out of the black BMW at the traffic lights while we were queuing at the Barnton junction.

“I’ll be back in a minute” he shouted. “I’m just going to get some petrol.”

When the lights changed to green, all the cars in front of us moved forwards to turn onto the A90. Ours remained stationary as I sat tight in my seat, confident that TPR would soon return. The traffic lights rotated through their sequence several times, yet TPR did not reappear. I waited and waited, as did the ever-growing line of cars behind me.

Eventually another driver in the queue lost his patience and blasted his horn. I understood that I had no choice but to climb over to the driver’s seat, turn on the engine, and move the vehicle. I took action when the lights next changed green. I pulled straight into the right hand lane, forgetting to indicate or check my mirrors, causing the car behind to perform an emergency stop. I really was Edinburgh’s worst driver.

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Crowded office sleeping arrangements (Rousse)

It was a bit of a squash, but nine of us were now sleeping on mattresses on the floor of my office on campus every night.

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Human sacrifice on the school bus (Rousse)

One school party took over the upper deck of the bus. The other settled in below. Rumours spread that the rival schools would go into combat as soon as the first human sacrifice was made.

“OK,” I said to TPR, “We’d better get started.”

“But who will be the victim?” he asked.

“I don’t really care – so long as it’s not you”.

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Musselburgh: bike repair capital of Britain (Rousse)

Musselburgh boasts the highest number of bike repair shops in Britain. This is due to its large resident population of retired cyclists.

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Scott McNealy continues to charm (Rousse)

It was the 1990s all over again. Scott McNealy took to the tiny blue stage to promote his new company. The charisma for which McNealy was famed in the heady days of dot.com boom at Sun Microsystems soon had the audience members eating out of the palm of his hand.

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Pens lost and found (Rousse)

PT interrupted F’s PhD supervision with a question.

“Are these pens yours?” he asked me. “Did you leave them behind when you moved offices?”

There were three pens in total: a beautiful dark blue-marbled fountain pen; the striped wooden roller ball that OC had given me as a present in the late 1980s; and a boring biro. I could tell that PT was hoping that I’d say that the first two weren’t mine.

“You can keep the biro if you like” I replied. The look on his face revealed his deep disappointment in my answer.

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Seal invasion (Rousse)

A couple seated a few tables away from us across the hotel dining room appeared to be sharing exciting news. I couldn’t resist interrupting my meal to run over to them and find out what was going on.

“Look out the window”, they instructed me. “We’re suffering a seal invasion. Nobody dare set foot on the beach”.

I pushed back the dining room curtains to see what all the fuss was about. Not an inch of sand could be seen under the writhing bodies of hundreds of overweight shiny black seals making their way up the beach from the shoreline. The bay was brimming with others coming into land. It was a truly spectacular – and frightening – sight.

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War Horse is “rubbish” (Rousse)

The first act of War Horse was tedious beyond belief. Why had we forked out fifty quid each to watch such a load of rubbish?

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