A heartless sister (Rousse)

Posted on August 16, 2013 by Dreamaticus

My brother went missing somewhere near the crocus-laden river bank in Toronto. I felt some responsibility for this, but my mind was elsewhere: my trip to the theatre with Belle, and a whole night sitting next to each other in row F.

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Desperate nuns resort to kidnap to drive up convent recruitment figures (Rousse)

Posted on August 16, 2013 by Dreamaticus

I always hated the return to work after my holiday, but what made this worse was that the campus had been moved from Corstorphine in Edinburgh to Perry Barr in Birmingham, and there was nobody there other than me. I walked out to the main road to see anyone that I knew happened to be in the vicinity.

I was hopeful when a car pulled up next to me. “Friends?” I wondered. I was mistaken. Out jumped half a dozen hippy terrorists brandishing weapons. I ran for my life.

A woman in a headscarf and a long robe rushed to my rescue. She pulled me into a people carrier crammed with women dressed just like her. I was so happy to be safe again in calm, female company. My relief was short-lived, however, when I realised that these nuns were my captors, that I would never return to the job that I loved, and instead would be forced to enter the convent.

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Avoiding unwelcome music and copyright infringement (Rousse)

Posted on August 15, 2013 by Dreamaticus

While I had been on holiday “they” had dismantled my desk and moved everything into a massive shared office where music chosen by NU blared out all day. Only RK showed any concern for the effect of this on my mental well-being.

One consolation was that there was a new member of admin staff: a short, grey-haired lady of 50 (she actually looked much older) who was happy to photocopy articles from the Journal of Information Science for me, just so long as my requests did not infringe copyright.

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Madonna advises against A list celebrity friendships (Rousse)

Posted on August 15, 2013 by Dreamaticus

The Indian manager of the charity shop had fallen in love with me. He begged for a date, offering to pay for both the coffee and my time with him in the cafe at the rate of £5 an hour. I now deeply regretted the hours that I spent there.

Then Madonna walked into the shop with her tiny blonde daughter. They were both dressed in fine tweeds, graph paper check linen shirts, and brown brogues, and were looking for accessories to top off their outfits.

At first I pretended that I hadn’t noticed them, but when they came out of the changing room asking for feedback on the items that they had chosen, it was only natural that I would start up a conversation with Madonna. I told her how I felt that I knew her already and that, if she wanted, I could be a good “ordinary” friend to her. She said that this would never work, proving her point by taking the escalator with me to Sighthill and revealing what happens when the general public sees you out and about with an A list celebrity. We could barely move without being obstructed by fans.

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Packing advice: don’t forget your bread knife (Rousse)

Posted on August 12, 2013 by Dreamaticus

I would have loved to have been a full team member for the project cooked up by IS and MG, but my role ended up to be more of an observer than that of a full participant. At best, my contribution could be conceived as similar to that of an extra in a Disney parade.

When all the activities were over, it was time for me to pack up and go home. Some of my belongings were back at IS’s flat. There I found G and a workman busy with DIY. They were touching up the paintwork, and attempting to remove green algae from IS’s private swimming pool.

While they got on with their work I hunted down my long black leather boots and two pairs of socks. Helpfully IS shouted after me “Don’t forget the your bread knife too!” I am sure that I would have left it behind otherwise.

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A level results anxieties (Rousse)

Posted on August 12, 2013 by Dreamaticus

It was only when the young man in our party on holiday in the highlands announced that he was going to phone in for his A level grades that I realised that (a) he was a school boy, and (b) it was results day.

I listened in on his call as he made his enquiry. The automated telephone answering system took him through a maze of menus until he finally reached the announcement of his own results. These were given in TV talent show style. When the voice said “Oh, son, what happened here? You’re going to be so disappointed” in the manner of Ant & Dec I thought it was a wind-up, but it wasn’t. My young friend had failed his single A level on the basis of a poor piece of course work, and would now have to resubmit a full photography project.

Now it was time for me to find out the results of my nephew. It was odd that my sister had not already rung me to share them. She answered my call with a series of riddles which roughly translated as “No, he didn’t get straight As, but he has still got into his first choice university”.

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A prize-winning threesome (Rousse)

Posted on August 10, 2013 by Dreamaticus

The prizes were awarded as follows:

  • the poetry prize to architect and photographer AC;
  • four Olympic medals – 2 bronze, 1 silver, and 1 gold – for athletics to TPR;
  • the CBE to Rousse.
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The Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre movie release (Rousse)

Posted on August 9, 2013 by Dreamaticus

I could barely contain my excitement when I arrived at the cinema for the première of the Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre’s movie. The place was teeming with fans, all rushing to find their seats.

The only problem was that the film was projected on three different screens: one at the front of the theatre, one on the left wall, and one on the right. It was simply impossible to know how to position oneself to get the best view of the action.

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Eric Clapton, his girlfriend, and the sea monster (Rousse)

Posted on August 8, 2013 by Dreamaticus

I loved being Eric Clapton’s girlfriend. He gave me a cute little mobile phone made from clear plastic like a child’s water pistol.

The only drawback of this celebrity lifestyle was the effort it took to avoid the resident sea monster.

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Camera envy (Rousse)

Posted on August 7, 2013 by Dreamaticus

SW pulled a magnificent camera out of her bag. With its huge telephoto lens, she told me that her photographer husband had paid £90 for it in the 1980s. This was more that I could ever afford for photographic equipment.

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