Secret Traitors plant is the Orinoco kid (Rousse)

Posted on January 25, 2024 by Dreamaticus

The Traitors’ production team planted me amongst the players at the start of episode 1. My role was to drop conversational prompts into discussions to generate entertaining dialogue for the television footage.

As I completed my mission, I wondered at the intelligence of the contestants. Not one commented on my absence at the nightly round tables. Even when I pointed out that I was responsible for some of the castle décor (two final year undergraduate Honours project posters), no suspicions were voiced.

I would not feature in any scenes of the series to be broadcast later in the year. Would it only be then that the players learn of my deception?

It was a most enjoyable role. I even had a special theme tune to recognise my boldness, bravery, and fearlessness: Orinoco kid by the Wombles.

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Invited to a picnic then snubbed at a talk (Rousse)

Posted on January 24, 2024 by Dreamaticus

I glimpsed a slim figure sauntering down the hall in a blue and white 1960s sundress, carrying a wicker basket.

‘Who would like to join me for a picnic?’ called my mother, returned to the beauty of her twenties – except it wasn’t my mother, but her grand-daughter (and my niece) AMF.

Later I spotted AMF and my sister J sitting down to listen to a talk. My sister was not amused when I approached the empty seat next to them and asked ‘Is this taken?’

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Troubles at the UK’s top events venue (Rousse)

Posted on January 24, 2024 by Dreamaticus

Robert Gordon University was now the leading UK events venue, and buzzing with delegates when I arrived for a conference.

I soon found fellow academic BD and we agreed to meet the next morning at 8:00am for breakfast. I would have preferred 8:30am, but BD insisted on 30 minutes earlier to give us the chance to pack in as much networking as possible before the start of the conference sessions.

I left BD and set off for reception upstairs to check in and collect my room key. The route there was rather challenging. I couldn’t locate a staircase, and the first couple of times that I thought that I had found the ‘right’ lift, the staff inside barred my entry on the basis that I was not a member of a project team.

Eventually I made it to the reception desk. It was staffed by two glamorous women dressed for the 1970s in uniforms reminiscent of long-defunct airlines. Their make-up and hair matched the same era. Above eyelashes dripping in mascara, thick baby blue eyeshadow reached to just beneath their eyebrows. The fringes of their big hairstyles fell across their beaming faces.

One of the pair, who introduced herself as Stephanie, asked if she could help me. On learning my name, she pulled a copy of my reservation document from a file. She then requested my credit card for the £700 charge for my two nights of accommodation. This was almost double the advertised rate, or so I thought. Stephanie explained that the figure that I had in mind only applied if you paid in advance. £400 was within my credit card limit; £700 was not. It looked like I would not be staying here for the duration of the conference.

Just as I was turning to leave, a woman introduced herself to me as Katy. With her long red hair, I recognised her as a former member of staff of the University. She remarked that this institution was always coming up with new ways to rip off conference delegates. She also moaned about three prominent members of academic staff of my acquaintance. It struck me as she spoke that this threesome had also taken me for a ride in the past. They had begged me to deliver a keynote presentation at a conference at very short notice – which I did – and afterwards ignored me.

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Parking on double yellow lines at the station: a hanging offence (Rousse)

Posted on January 21, 2024 by Dreamaticus

It seemed too good to be true that I could drive all the way along the pedestrian access and then park just outside the railway ticket office. Where was the no entry sign, and what had become of the double yellow lines?

Of course I was right: this was an illegal move. I was apprehended as soon as I stepped out of the car, then marched to a small office off the station’s main concourse. Here I could hear cries of pain as a fellow miscreant was punished for her offences.

When it was my turn to be seen, I was greeted by woman in a green uniform brandishing a long stick. To my great relief she explained that my sentence had been mitigated from a real hanging to a fake one. If I could just sit still for a few minutes, she would tug on my arms a little and then I would be released. I also had to promise that I would never again attempt to park at the station.

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A shoddy Edinburgh welcome at Portobello Town Hall (Rousse)

Posted on January 20, 2024 by Dreamaticus

All business travellers to Edinburgh were routed into the city via Portobello Town Hall. Strips of dirty blue plastic poorly fixed to the hall’s internal steps announced ‘Welcome to Edinburgh’ hundreds of times in a tiny font. Once in the main room, the visitors were faced with rows and rows of traders’ stands, the majority of which offered homemade foodstuffs free of charge.

I saw an opportunity to pick up some cakes to take to J&G in Manchester. However, on close inspection, I discovered that (a) the goods were not very appetising and (b) the generous offer of free goods was limited to one cup cake per person. Regardless, I paid for a large iced cake from a woman on a stall at the far left hand side, then left the building.

Next on the agenda was a trip to the Forth Rail Bridge. I had heard that you could access it by foot. This proved too challenging for me. I lacked the strength to crawl through the narrow tunnel that had been bored through the hill to reach the structure at South Queensferry. I was also too frightened.

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The burden of a mentally ill husband (Rousse)

Posted on January 15, 2024 by Dreamaticus

Towards the end of our stay in a shoddy three star hotel, TPR fell in with a group of other guests. He was so enraptured with them that he would have sat at their table at dinner had I not forbidden this.

TPR was no longer the man I knew and loved. He clearly now had no interest in me whatsoever. Even so, he was my responsibility, and his frail mental state represented yet another burden for me to bear.

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Canals crowded in city blaze (Rousse)

Posted on January 15, 2024 by Dreamaticus

TPR shouted back to me that I should follow him up the hill to ‘See this!’

Ahead of me on the right hand side I could just make out an orange glow. As I approached it, I saw an occupied office block on fire. Instead of jumping out of the windows to safety, office workers were clambering up the building. Others encouraged them, claiming that the best place to shelter from the flames was a roof-top water garden.

My mother was sitting on a bench opposite the blazing building. My sister was meant to be looking after her, but had disappeared to Newcastle for an unknown period. Afraid that the fire could spread across the road, I threw my mother over my shoulders and onto my back, then carried her downhill.

Not long afterwards the whole city was ablaze. The only place of safety was the crowded canal.

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Passion with a business partner (Rousse)

Posted on January 14, 2024 by Dreamaticus

PMF and CA worked for the family firm in Stockton-on-Tees.

One day, when I was looking for a dress* in a cupboard in my parents’ bedroom, I heard CA arguing with my father and his business partner. A few hours later, while I was on a group nature walk along the river, I spotted CA and my father’s business partner again. This time they were locked in a passionate embrace in a small blue car. Somebody needed to inform PMF. Would I be brave enough to do so?

*This was for an event at the Parkwood Hotel in Hartburn. I chose a modest tea dress. I later regretted my decision when ECM appeared in an almost transparent pale blue silk and satin gown, and our two other companions were also dressed for a ball rather than a night at the pub. My only consolation was that my hair was still the longest.

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Sausages on a train (Rousse)

Posted on January 11, 2024 by Dreamaticus

Not long after my mother and I bought half a dozen sausages to cook on the train carriage grill, TPR suggested that we take advantage of the 40 minute break in the journey at Edinburgh Waverley station to play tourist in Midlothian. This sounded like a fun idea to me, so I plonked my mother on the back of a black pony and we led her across the by-pass to the Pentland Hills.

Of course our moorland trek took much longer than the allotted 40 minutes. By the time we realised this, the train to Inverness had left Edinburgh – with my computer and handbag, our suitcases, and the sausages.

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Life without a willy (Rousse)

Posted on January 11, 2024 by Dreamaticus

The biggest surprise at TPR’s work reunion was the Japanese engineer dressed in a dark maroon kimono-style mini-dress and black, strappy, high-heeled sandals, who boasted that life was so much better without a willy.

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