Suddenly a picture of Rosemary from the Simpsons flashed up on my computer screen. This was the signal that I had long feared.
It only meant one thing: the virus had started its attack. I watched in horror as it worked its way through all the directories on my PC, deleting every single file. Immediately afterwards it set to work on the two Macs sitting on the kitchen table, and then my iPhone.
There was a staff shortage at the doctor’s surgery so TPR stepped in to help (even though he had no medical qualifications whatsoever). When I asked how he was getting on he assured me that all was fine.
Apparently most patients who visit their doctor aren’t ill. What they need is time to chat rather than a detailed medical consultation.
Aberystwyth was buzzing with activity: ET-S was organising some event to collect data for her doctoral research; I was invited to deliver a keynote speech at the university; the theatre was running a “white festival” where everyone dressed in white; and plans were underway for the summer reopening the municipal swimming pond (a lake in the woods).
When I arrived in town, accompanied by TPR, I was received like a visiting deity. A recent graduate of Aberystwyth University brought her boss-eyed daughter to me for a blessing. I knew in my heart that I did not have the power to cure her affliction.
Cousin T’s latest adventure was captured in a photo posted on Facebook. On seeing him handcuffed and wearing a blood-stained T shirt I feared for his safety. Then I noticed that the other man in the picture was bleeding from his forehead. What a stupid thing to do: headbutt the six pack of my super-tall, super-fit cousin.
I admired the tiny baby in her crib. The skinny woman boasted that her daughter was just four hours old. She’s delivered her at the hotel while on holiday. It was all totally unexpected: the new mother hadn’t even realised that she was pregnant.
We arrived very early at the show and TPR was quick enough to put his name into the competition for a BMW. Sadly he was unsuccessful – but he did win second prize: a brand new 1.6 litre Astra GTE.
I unfurled the parchment invitation from the Queen and the Archbishop of Canterbury. The pleasure of my company, and that of TPR, was requested at the service to bless the new campus. I prayed that TPR would join me on the day. This was one work commitment that I was not prepared to miss.
I was photographing wildlife in Alexandra Park with first year network computing student TB. Through the bushes we spotted a stag’s head. Then – even more exciting – I spied a koala bear half way up a tree. This was surely a first for Manchester.
Knowledge management guru DS and his sisters shared my table on the train. As he showed off the journal that he edited I asked why only men ever featured on the front cover. DS replied that lately he’d been pondering this same question himself.
However, I was not to worry: the problem had been addressed and on the front of the next issue I would find a fabulous photograph of a penguin.
The colour scheme at the ‘Singles Mingles’ dinner was white and gold and the candles were flickering. For a few brief seconds I actually turned into my ideal man – a New York police officer, slightly going to seed but still with a sparkle in my eyes. I snapped back to myself when an official leant over and whispered in my ear.
Startled I called out “What do you mean? TEN of our aliens are missing?!”
[This woke me up]
Dreamaticus 