Recreated photos of a French past (Rousse)

Posted on January 12, 2014 by Dreamaticus

When I first came across the pictures I thought that they were of A and D’s wedding. I had enlargements made so that I could put them into an old-fashioned cloth-covered photograph album to give to my French friends.

It was only when I was arranging the enlargements that I spotted myself in the photos of the family groups. I must have been there to look after A and D’s baby twins. I also noted that the “bride” was wearing a hyacinth blue silk dress. This all meant that these couldn’t possibly have been pictures from the wedding day. Perhaps it was the children’s christening party?

A and D were delighted with their present – so much so that they invited everyone to a reunion at a small hotel in France. The highlight of the day came when we all dressed up in the clothes that we had worn three decades earlier to recreate every picture in the album.

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Christmas tree hazard (Rousse)

Posted on January 11, 2014 by Dreamaticus

I caught my foot in the trailing fairy lights at the base of the Christmas tree and tumbled across the polished wooden floor of my parents’ mansion.

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Tomsk Womble halts divorce proceedings (Rousse)

Posted on January 8, 2014 by Dreamaticus

“Of course, you know that my husband and I couldn’t possibly separate until January 2015 at the very earliest?” asked a friend while we were in the process of discussing the divorce of another.

“Why’s that?” I enquired.

“In the January sales we bought our daughter a stuffed Tomsk Womble. We plan to give it to her together for Christmas next year. If we split up before December 2014, whatever will become of the poor Womble?” she replied.

I agreed that this was a very good point. You shouldn’t leave stray Wombles lying around the place, even if this gets in the way of your future long-term happiness.

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Door-to-door salesman firearms shocker (Rousse)

Posted on January 7, 2014 by Dreamaticus

It was Sunday morning at 10:00am and we were still fast asleep when the doorbell rang. TPR grabbed his dressing gown and made a dash down the hallway to see who was calling. I followed him.

Our caller was a door-to-door salesman offering cleaning products. His sales technique was somewhat threatening. He wore a full face mask and carried a rifle. When TPR told him that we weren’t interested in his wares, the salesman pointed his gun at one of our hanging baskets, took aim, and pulled the trigger. He laughed excitedly as the floral display crashed to the ground, then scampered up the steps and on to his next sales call.

TPR was convinced that we would not hear from our caller again. I wasn’t too sure of this. At the top of the steps he had torn off his mask, and I had seen his face. Wouldn’t he now be obliged to come back and kill me?

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Tricksters grow penguin crop (Rousse)

Posted on January 7, 2014 by Dreamaticus

They played a trick on me. TPR and his gentlemen friends said that they had sown the field with fir tree saplings. They hadn’t. Instead they had planted out a crop of baby penguins.

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Virgin TV disappointment (Rousse)

Posted on January 6, 2014 by Dreamaticus

TPR and I had two homes in Edinburgh. The first was a basement flat with excellent storage. The other was a bright, airy Newhaven apartment with open views across the Firth of Forth. Whenever we were in one we decided to sell the other, but somehow never managed to get as far as contacting an estate agent to set the plans in motion.

It felt like we had broken into an elite circle when the two Professors M came round for dinner at the Newhaven apartment. After the meal one asked if I would be willing to be interviewed for her research project. I agreed, but lost favour quickly when it became obvious that I knew very little about current television schedules. What sort of idiot had never heard of Virgin TV?

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Pudding wine and a patient (Rousse)

Posted on January 5, 2014 by Dreamaticus

I winced when TPR ordered pudding wine. He was a last-minute guest at our business dinner, and it certainly wasn’t his place to make demands of the waiting staff to meet his expensive personal tastes. I hoped that BR and the newer members of the teaching team would not notice TPR’s indiscretion.

The next day I could not recall who had paid for the previous evening’s dinner. Had anyone picked up the bill? Did I owe anyone any money? If so, how much? I walked down to JK’s office to see if she knew the answers to my questions.

On my way I bumped into SM. She held in her hand the hand-written bill from the meal. As yet it was unpaid, but she was confident that this would be covered by our clients. There was no reason for me to fret.

I continued on my mission to see JK. She was not alone. At the other side of her desk was a very pale and puffy AJW, wrapped up in a blanket. She looked far too ill to be on a university campus. I learnt that AJW had a throat infection, but nowhere to stay, so JK had taken her in. I immediately arranged for AJW to be transported back to my flat. She would be placed under the care of TPR until she made a full recovery.

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Magic tables only a partial solution to University accommodation problems (Rousse)

Posted on January 4, 2014 by Dreamaticus

I was dismayed over the state of my accommodation. I had been allocated a tiny desk squeezed into the corner of a large computer lab populated by PhD students. My computer and printer took up most of the desk’s surface so there was very little space in which to work.

I hunted around for some spare furniture to see if I could rearrange things a little. At the back of the room I found a magic table. At first glance it was barely the size of a tea tray, but if you pulled on its legs it expanded to a decent size. I decided to fit this between the end of my desk and the wall as a way to extend my work space.

When I returned to my spot I found that the technician, who was in the process of setting up my printer, was also chatting to the Vice Principal. This was my opportunity to make known the appalling office accommodation conditions for academics at the University.

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Handbag thief victim found in possession of illegal currency (Rousse)

Posted on January 4, 2014 by Dreamaticus

I eventually worked out that my little soft blue shoulder bag had probably been stolen in York, possibly at the railway station or from the train. Wherever this incident took place, it was extremely inconvenient.

Months later I was very surprised when the handbag resurfaced at my workplace. I was so pleased to find that my keys were still in there. Now I wouldn’t need to bother the school office staff every time I needed a key to get into my office.

LO and I sat down together to examine the bag’s contents. LO counted out the coins left in the purse while I examined the sorry state of my credit cards.

“I think they must have been an international gang” LO suggested. “Just look at these serrated eastern European beer bottle top coins!”

I peered over to her side of the table and spotted something else: half a dozen newly minted silver commemorative British crowns.

We both wondered where this currency had come from. None of these coins had been in my handbag on the day that it was stolen. Now that these items were in our possession, were we in danger?

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The hero of the indoor pub shinty team (Rousse)

Posted on January 3, 2014 by Dreamaticus

My husband was the star player of the indoor pub shinty team, much admired for his amazing sporting talent. His favourite trick was to launch the puck into the goal from any angle without disturbing the drinkers in the pub at the time.

I, in contrast, was a liability to the team. I couldn’t get my head around the rule that the puck could never be out of play. This meant that I kept getting into trouble whenever I attempted to retrieve the puck temporarily lost behind the bar.

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