Tiffin for tiger (Rousse)

Posted on August 13, 2012 by Dreamaticus

The old lady was out walking her pet in the park again. Everyone scattered. The day before the tiger had breakfasted on a large black dog. What would be on his menu today?

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Corridor chaos and a Carlisle curiosity (Rousse)

Posted on August 12, 2012 by Dreamaticus

The new corridors on campus were far too narrow. They were also windowless, and nobody thought to post any signs to the walls. As soon as the students returned for the new year, it would be chaos – and perhaps even a fire hazard.

I pondered all this as the train pulled into Carlisle. When I realised that this was my stop I hurried to pull on my coat. As usual I struggled with my paralysed left arm and had to ask for the help of a stranger. The woman standing next to me was curious. She followed me off the platform and on to TPR who was waiting for me in our red F-reg Peugeot 205. I turned to her and shouted “If you really want to find out more, please do what everyone else does and stick my name into Google!”

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Wedding preparations and wolves (Rousse)

Posted on August 11, 2012 by Dreamaticus

S and A’s wedding rivalled the Olympics for scale. Everyone was invited. I loved it, especially since so many of my own friends, relations and work colleagues would be there. These included:

  • my sister J and her family
  • all the delegates of Online Information 2012
  • newly married TD, her groom, and his bunch of young, good-looking single friends (who would do very nicely for two of the adult bridesmaids: A’s twin sisters)
  • even SL from the Isle of Man, and her school friend S!

The night before the event TPR and I arranged a night out for all but the immediate family members (who would have loved to have come out, were still busy at the house making preparations). The plan was to meet downstairs at 4pm, walk to the refurbished swimming pool at the Botanic Gardens, then go for a curry afterwards. It would be a lovely evening, so long as everyone survived the first stage of the walk: crossing the field of fearsome wolves.

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A Jack Vettriano original (Rousse)

Posted on August 10, 2012 by Dreamaticus

Usually I didn’t have much to do with my widowed colleague X. His fearsome office wife guarded him jealously with an arrogant form of possessiveness that bordered on the pathological. In short, if you came too close, she’d make it clear that there was only one person in the world suitably qualified to keep X company, and that person was her.

For some unknown reason the office wife was away for the day. Her post unguarded, I made my move and plonked myself next to X on the dark green sofa. Between embraces we chatted with an admin colleague seated opposite us on another sofa, opening her Christmas cards.

Suddenly we were interrupted by cries from the street. A dead body lay in the middle of the road at the junction of Morningside Road and Merchiston Place. On learning the victim’s name most assumed that he was some random Italian tourist. Only I seemed to appreciate that we had a dead celebrity on our hands. The “Italian tourist” was none other than the Scottish painter and publisher Jack Vettriano.

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Rousse forgets to dress

Posted on August 9, 2012 by Dreamaticus

For a change I turned left as I passed through the gate, climbed the hill, and headed out along the coast road. Just outside the hotel gates a rather rough wedding party was gathered. The poor podgy bridesmaid wore a vile silver Andy Pandy suit. How appalling for her!

I walked past the family and down to Portobello beach where my bare feet sank into the sand. It was only then that I realised that there was something more shameful than that bridesmaid’s outfit: going out for a walk completely naked.

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Nightmare at the Olympics (Belle)

Posted on August 9, 2012 by Dreamaticus

For a horrifying ten minutes, I was drafted into the Chinese men’s doubles table tennis semi-final match. As I walked towards the table in the arena, an official admitted the administrative error and took the bat out of my hands. 

To compensate for the trauma, the trainer of the Chinese team handed me a hard boiled egg.

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The unfaithful husband (Rousse)

Posted on August 8, 2012 by Dreamaticus

To coincide with his retirement TPR admitted that over the course of our 25-year marriage he had slept with 21 different women (or 22, if he included me). Of these, he paid six for their services. I was relieved that none were amongst my closest friends.

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Rousse recommends Rentokil

Posted on August 7, 2012 by Dreamaticus

I’d offered again and again to help, but this time it really was too late.

K had finally admitted to her affair with Terry and (unsurprisingly) her boyfriend J had thrown her out. The only place that she could go was her neglected, and now uninhabitable, old flat. It was completely infested by the pests that had already eaten their way through her extensive collection of clothes and hats, and had made a start on gnawing through the structure of the building.

This was not a job for a friend. It was time to call in the professionals: Rentokil.

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Hairy Star Wars sidekick Chewbacca comes to take Rousse home

Posted on August 6, 2012 by Dreamaticus

I arrived at the guest house by airborne bike. I had followed the route along the cycle path from its source in the Meadows, all the way to the white cliffs, taking care not to knock over the hundreds of walkers in my path. The journey ended in a huge swoop over the Arabian Sea as I descended into my final destination of Arius.

My week in the guest house was not terribly comfortable. The landlady took an instant dislike to me, but did not say why. Indeed she refused to speak to me at all, but instead communicated to me in silent stage whispers. When I complained at the end of the week that someone had stolen my collection of antique needlebooks from the bedroom she did not care. All that interested her was whether or not I’d be checked out by 10:00am sharp that day.

When my boyfriend came up the stairs to collect me I waited for her reaction. I couldn’t imagine that any of her other guests were as intimate as I was with Hans Solo’s hairy Star Wars sidekick Chewbacca.

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