Dreamaticus

It was a huge journey from Prague overland, but I eventually made it back to the UK – even though I was minus my pale green fake fur coat, lost by a fat middle-aged woman at a ball in Austria. The trip took up the whole summer and my main priority now was to get back on campus for the start of the new academic year.

As I approached the university I realised that I was unshod. Although it was acceptable in the summer to turn up at work in casual dress, running around the corridors barefoot at the start of the autumn term was not an option. I needed a shoe shop – fast.

I headed for the small shopping mall just above High Street Kensington tube station. I was disappointed to find, however, that the Bertie concession in Gap had disappeared, and Russell and Bromley now sold beds rather than footwear. I’d have to go further afield to find a bigger range of shops.

I caught the first bus that came along and hoped that it would take me to the city centre. Instead we appeared to be heading towards the outer reaches of Birmingham “Oh look, there’s the famous roof garden!” someone called as we passed a tree growing out of the top of a disused warehouse.

By now I was miles from work and had no idea how to get back again. I asked a fellow passenger if I should change bus. Another passenger overheard my question and told me not to worry: she would be heading in the same direction as me by car from the next bus stop and would drop me off wherever I wanted.

I followed this young woman off the bus. Out in the open I noticed her old-fashioned long green heavy cotton dress. She led me to her home rather than the promised car. It was a battered transit van with the wording “Moonys” inked in childish blue lettering along its side. Another identically dressed woman emerged from the van, closely followed by Peep Show’s Super Hans. The latter appeared to be in charge of the two women, and started treating me as if I was a willing new recruit to some obscure cult. Then the sign on the van started to make sense (even if the spelling was incorrect).

Just in time a red-haired geologist called Fiona came to my rescue. I offered to pay her to drive me back to the university, but instead she insisted that we walk to the high street with her partner and another female couple. They’d put me on the train from Balham and I would soon be back where I belonged.