David Tennant’s ‘dangerous driver’ wife (Rousse)

It was still dark at 4:00am when I turned the key in my red Peugeot 205 to drive it up the hill past the community centre and round the corner to the village car park. This was the easiest place to complete a turn without blocking the main road.

Another driver entered the car park at the same time.  As I made my turn, I clipped his vehicle pulling into a parking space. Then I nudged a parked car on my way back out on to the street. This car then took out another one. Now there were three cars heading down the hill, the two at the front driverless.

What a disaster! I pulled into the right hand side of the road to bring my car to halt next to the park railings. I then readied myself to face an angry mob of neighbours.

One, a police officer, instantly started treating me like a criminal caught at a crime scene. It was when she started photographing my car that I realised that perhaps I was not responsible for my dreadful driving. The car looked in much worse condition than I kept it. Had joy riders been out in it without my knowledge, or someone else tampered with it overnight?

I was desperate to get home to wake my husband and tell him everything. He would sort it all out. He was David Tennant, after all.

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Online conference revival (Rousse)

Last held in 2013, we all believed that that was the end of the annual Online conference – until this week, when it was revived in London.

LVZ was operating the complicated lifts, and my colleague BMR selling miscellaneous books on a stall at the base of a wide spiral staircase. I started watching a film with TPR in an auditorium, but left early to attend an exercise class.

The strangest aspect of the event was its timing at Easter. I missed the ‘Christmas is coming’ feel of Online in the olden days.

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An inconvenient house in the Highlands, with stunning medieval hall (Rousse)

Why did we ever buy this inconvenient house in the Highlands? The only advantage of living here was that you could leave your front door unlocked without any risk of burglary.

The layout of the building was ridiculous. You walked straight through the front door into a dingy sitting/dining room with a tiny cupboard of a kitchen at the back. Upstairs was a box room labelled as a study (previously used by PB – a man of low morals who stole JT from my long-dead friend BT). Next to this was a stunning medieval dining hall, which would be great in an appropriate building, but not here. The one tiny bathroom, also upstairs, was impractical for anyone taller than 4’11”.

The next door neighbours were keen to explain how it was possible to change the layout to make the house habitable. Horrified at the level of required investment, we decided to leave things as they were.

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A rough Liverpudlian with rickets (Rousse)

Having ended her relationship with AO, in the sitting room of my dead paternal grandmother, KA introduced us to her new partner.

When Niklaus and I shook hands, we recognised each other. I’d seen him at work just a few days earlier. I would never have expected KA to fall for a rough skinny man with rickets. The only thing that she and he had in common was that they both came from Liverpool. Even so, they supported different football teams.

I turned my attention away from the pair of them to concentrate on the job in hand: to select items from my grandmother’s estate. The mirror over the fire was attractive, but I had nowhere to put it. The Chinese rug was also lovely, but a corner was missing. In the end, there was nothing to interest me here.

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REF cheats (Rousse)

I started to write my report about the Research Excellence Framework (REF) in pink ink along the top of the low wall. My source material was a huge A4 binder bulging with print-outs and notes from 2021.

I left my position for a while to chat to EH about a recent vacancy at the University of Edinburgh. Her application had been rejected in favour of that of our mutual colleague F.

When I returned to my report, I found several men in suits gathered along ‘my’ wall. Some were examining my pink scribbles on the stone; others were leafing through the contents of the binder. Furious with them, I threatened legal action for interfering with my confidential work.

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Royal shenanigans and an unintended heist (Belle)

My second worst ever boyfriend decided to take me to Italy to show off his new friends – a group of minor royals. “See how much fun we’re having”, he said to me as a group of them posed and pranced on a steep cobbled street that was festooned with brightly coloured laundry hanging between windows. I said “I’d be more impressed if there wasn’t a film crew and a director telling them what to do”.

Later I opened my bag and discovered I had inadvertently stolen two spoons and two knives from Queen Elizabeth II’s charity shop. I vowed to return the next day and confess.

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Sara the stranger (Rousse)

The extra member of our book group was DM’s new mentee: a large woman called Sara. From now onwards, she would meet DM three hours before the start of our meetings, then join the rest of us for the dinner and chat. I wasn’t terribly keen on this arrangement, but did not voice my opinion.

I walked home with MHH, who was meeting her new boyfriend Alfred for a late evening date. Our route took us past the new opera house. Plastered across the front was a hoarding to announce the call for the new opera house president. The silhouette of the figure to represent the person sought looked suspiciously like that of DM.

Back home I discovered that TPR and I were still hosting my mother and MHH’s clone as before, plus a new lodger – Sara’s disabled son. However would five people cope with living in a flat that comprised only a small sitting room, bathroom, and kitchen the size of a small cupboard? Furthermore, why were we doing so much for this stranger called Sara?

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American carries rifle as hand luggage on commercial flight from Heathrow to the Far East (Rousse)

The American couple were also heading for the Far East. We were just at the start of our long journey. They had already endured several hours in the confines of economy having flown into Heathrow from the US just a couple of hours earlier.

We enjoyed chatting to them in the departure lounge  – until it was time for us to walk to the gate and we observed that the husband was carrying a rifle as hand luggage!

When we recoiled in horror, he thought it hilarious. Now we wanted nothing to do with him or his wife.

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A catering crisis on campus and a corpse (Rousse)

Keen to make a mark in her new role, the recently-appointed professor organised a one-day networking event on campus. I agreed to come along to support this short, dark-haired woman, and offered to bring a dish for the evening meal. However, I had no official role in respect of the organisation of the proceedings.

On the day itself, I handed over a ratatouille. The professor was obviously very disappointed with my efforts. Although I had made the dish in the largest Le Creuset dish that I owned, it would only serve about eight people. She was expecting 700 at her event and she had assumed that I would be catering for every single delegate. Panicking, she asked how I would deal with this sudden catering crisis.

‘How will I deal with it?’ I asked her. ‘Why is this any of my business? I suggest that you ask the University kitchen staff to see if they can help you out at short notice.’

The Head of University Catering regretted that there was nothing that his staff could do, so I suggested a huge fish and chips order from an external supplier (or suppliers). The professor, however, favoured sending the delegates home hungry with the promise of a meal on another date. She failed to realise that inviting 700 people back on campus would incur a huge travel bill for the University. This was because the institution had offered to cover costs for everyone involved in attending the event.

When her boss eventually learnt that all was not well, the professor laid the blame on me.

‘How can you say that?’ I objected. ‘I don’t even work here!’

Although I was upset by her assumptions and accusations, I still wanted to help the professor. So after she stormed out of the meeting with her boss, I followed her back towards the throng of people enjoying the afternoon’s networking sessions.

I took the route along the top of a high cupboard.  This revealed a huge surprise: the perfect vantage point for watching the University’s senior management relax naked in the on-campus sauna.

Later, when I related the trauma of the day to my mother-in-law, she magicked up my long dead maternal grandmother, a puppy, and a bouquet of flowers. These made me feel a lot better. I was, however, rather curious about my granny. She looked far too healthy to be a corpse.

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