Promises, promises (Rousse)

The High Street on the Royal Mile by Brendan MacNeill

The High Street on the Royal Mile by Brendan MacNeill

TPR was well ahead of us up the High Street so I reckoned that it was safe to grab X for another quick snog just as we came out of the arcade onto Cockburn Street. He seemed to appreciate it all the more when I promised that one day I would finish the job.

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Perfecting the poached egg – in a tin bath (Rousse)

While my family was sunbathing on the beach, I decided to cook a stack of poached eggs. I cracked the eggs into a tin bath of boiling water following a technique learnt from my Canadian friend WR. The cooking, however, turned out to be the easy part. Extracting them from the water with a slatted spoon proved extremely tricky. It was also hard to concentrate on the task with WR in close range droning on and on about the deficiencies of his wife and three children.

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A patchwork quilt, property in Perthshire, and a stay at the Palace (Rousse)

My parents were selling up and disposing of their possessions, as was the University of Birmingham. If I wanted to save anything, now was the time to act. I wanted nothing from the White House, but was keen to retrieve my patchwork quilt from Manor. Although it had been used as a stair carpet for the past thirty years, it was actually in reasonably good condition, and the staff questioned why I should be taking it. As I tore out the carpet tacks I replied that I had photographic evidence that this work of art was mine.

Next we had to come to terms with our new living arrangements. My parents gave us the cottage in rural Perthshire and the house in Pitlochry, but neither was habitable. In the long-term TPR would supervise their restoration and we would rent them out to holiday-makers. Meantime we took residence again with the royal family. We knew the score here. You were to keep a low profile, be careful how you use the palace stationery, and never touch the Queen’s false teeth.

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Home extension adds to work worries (Rousse)

We had just moved into the restored blackhouse located to the rear of the garden at the back of our flat. My first task was to chase the swarm of five bees around the sitting room and kitchen and out the back door. There I stumbled on to the patio and a vast area of scrub land. I had no idea that we had purchased an estate along with the building. There was another blackhouse (ruined), a barn, and a mixed herd of the tiniest miniature Shetland ponies and sheep. TPR would have his work cut out looking after all this.

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Tenement opera at the Leith Festival (Rousse)

After the snows melted we gathered with the other commune members to follow the crowd to East Claremont Street. From the windows of two different third floor flats a man and a woman sang a series of opera duets. We couldn’t understand what this was all about until a big banner unfurled from the tenement. It proclaimed that the performance was part of the Leith Festival.

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Fraudulent applications to the Pizza Sixth Form (Rousse)

Pizza by Brendan MacNeill

Pizza by Brendan MacNeill

TPR and I turned up at school for our first day as A level pupils. We’d be in the same year as my niece AF, her brother PF and his new wife. The teacher took one look at us and asked how old we were. “Eighteen”, I lied. I was prepared to do anything to join the Pizza Sixth Form.

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Stars of the VisitScotland web site (Rousse)

Casually browsing the Internet, I came across photos of me and TPR in our wet suits, swimming in the Bruton Stream on Uig Sands. We were the new stars of the VisitScotland web site.

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Obama announces spending freeze (Rousse)

Barack Obama (my husband) took me aside and made his proclamation: no longer could we afford to stay in hotels such as this. I argued that it befit our status only to reside at establishments where a medieval church bell hung over the entrance to our bedroom. Obama dismissed this as irrelevant: savings had to be made.

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Synchronised librarians (Belle)

It was a hot, sunny afternoon as we gathered on the top floor of a tall, tall building. Just about everyone ‘in the industry’ was there and the place was buzzing. 

I noticed SH, wearing a black gilet with hundreds of pockets and hooks.  At 1pm exactly, sandwiches were served and we were directed to watch out of the window.  Opposite, on top of One Canada Square, (Canary Wharf), SH and hundreds of librarians were abseiling, swinging on ropes and carrying out an elaborate synchronised dance routine.  This was quite a spectacle.

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A five-person tandem, fire engines, and the fuel shortage (Rousse)

Time was tight to reach the 12:00 rain from Waverley by tandem. However, the distance was quite short: straight up Broughton Street, past John Lewis, and down Calton Road into the back entrance of the station. Provided that everyone pedalled properly, we would make it.

It soon became obvious that a 5-person bicycle was too much to manage, and with diversions through (a) the fire station, where the fire-fighters were washing the engines, and (b) a seminar on the oil crisis, at which I made a brief contribution on the 1970s fuel shortage, I would surely miss my train.

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