I came across a very pretty village just off the A702. “We could live here”, I thought “And be close to N and S”.
The only drawback was the queue of pensioners jumping in pairs to their death from the bridge across the river. In the water below us we could see hundreds of stolen iPhones, iPads and iPad minis on the river bed, just beneath the floating corpses.
Two boys from my class at school came to collect my dreams. “Please be careful with them” I begged as I handed them over to ST and PN. “They’re very precious, and I need to remember them for my blog”.
I accidentally dropped two brand new iPad minis down the gap between the radiator and the wall. The external damage was obvious: they were both badly chipped. But would they still work?
TPR had now collected two parking tickets for illegally leaving his car in a metered space outside J and K’s house in Leith – and he couldn’t care less.
Driving TPR’s Porsche was trickier than I remembered. You had to jump into it while it was moving and ensure that you were properly settled into the seat before it sped off. Today I also had to take care that I didn’t get squashed by any of the huge lorries on the bridge, or one of the jumbo jets hurtling along the runway.
Across the corridor I heard ECM squeal when she took delivery of her graduation gown and hood. The latter was most unusual, taking the form of an air force blue silk padded bomber jacket. ECM would look quite the star when she picked up her PhD later that morning.
Meanwhile I pulled two big white envelopes out of the pocket of my heavy brown winter coat. I couldn’t remember how long it was since the day that the postman had handed them over to me. Whenever that was, it was now clearly high time I took a look at their contents. In fact, the envelopes themselves were more interesting than what was to be found inside them. Although each displayed my name, neither gave my address. Somehow the Post Office had pieced together the scribbled random clues, such as “bake a cake” and “1p 1p 1p”, to work out that these missives were, in fact, destined for me.
At the conclusion of X’s rousing speech I stood up to confirm that librarians were the most powerful public servants.
It therefore came as both a shock and a disappointment to learn moments later that a mouse headed up the city’s public library service.
Just a couple of hours into my new job and already I had the Director of Communications and Information Technology bellowing down the phone at me to lay off his staff. I didn’t think that asking two questions about my new e-mail account was such a crime, but when the director’s rant collapsed into intermittent gulping breaths of a furious man having a heart attack I decided I needed to go and sort this out in person.
“I’m on my way over to you”, I said “Please could you tell me your room number?”
“We’re off campus in the converted church building on Strathearn Street” he replied.
“Where’s that?” I asked, “Is it to the east or west of the main campus?”
“You can find it yourself” he grunted, then slammed down the phone.
I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. My best bet was that the converted church would be to the east of campus. However, no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find Strathearn Street. There were plenty of churches – inside one there was a wedding party dressed as pirates – but none that looked like the headquarters of a university computer services department.
Then I remembered that I had a map application on my iPhone. I thought that this would help locate the desired destination. What I hadn’t counted on was that all the useful apps on my phone had been wiped. All that remained there was a rolling advert for weekend breaks in Amsterdam, and multiple photographs of red squirrels.
Dreamaticus 