Green greatcoat is Paris fashion hit (Rousse)

I was finding it hard to cope on my own in the Paris hostel in the run-up to my wedding. Three feral children, who couldn’t even tell me how old they were, drove everyone mad running amok everywhere. They stole anything that wasn’t permanently fixed to the building. Their petty theft strategy was senseless: what use to them were random items of stationery, such as my 12 inch see-through plastic ruler?

I eventually cornered the three little rascals and gave them a hard talking-to. I explained how their current behaviours risked their long-term future happiness. Miraculously they paid attention and by the next day had transformed into charming mini-angels.

Meanwhile I still missed my family. My sister-in-law S’s gymnast friend G called over to me from the dance studio and asked when they were due. “Not until the end of the week”, I replied glumly. Then I spotted a tall dark cloaked figure turn the corner of the corridor. This changed everything: MS was here! I chased after him, rapidly calculating how much time we would have alone together before everyone else arrived. He smiled as I ran into his arms, yet was clearly still completely unaware of my secret feelings for him (which, incidentally, made him all the more attractive to me).

I was terribly disappointed when MS revealed that he would be spending all his time in Paris talking to France’s leading academic librarians – and none with me. However, when I stepped back to look at him more closely, I realised that it was not actually MS that I loved. His serge green greatcoat was the true object of my affections.

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When a stag party prank goes wrong (Rousse)

TPR and I watched a gang of drunks on a stag night throw one of their party into a communal refuse bin. Their victim didn’t move. We feared that he would still be trapped inside when the bin men came along to collect the rubbish in the morning.

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Home truths for Rousse

EH finally snapped: “Will you stop pointing your finger at me every time you make a complaint in a meeting? You’re like a child bleating ‘It’s not fair’.”

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Let down by Heston Blumenthal (Belle)

Desperate to impress, I was showing off to my new client. I told him I had arranged for him to eat a late lunch with Heston Blumenthal. Although this was a bare-faced lie, I hoped to make the booking while my client visited the bathroom. However, when I made the phone call, Heston refused my request. His afternoons were spent in his laboratory, not in his restaurant.

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Rousse’s posh tattoo

I was working for a high-profile international committee when the guerilla tattoo artist attacked me. For three years I was lumbered with his creation in inky lettering embedded into the full length of my back.

Although I hated it, at least it looked erudite. In all that time I never saw anyone else sporting a tattoo in Latin.

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Cute Shetland pony foals and black labrador puppies (Rousse)

This was the best garden fête ever, with a huge area roped off for petting Shetland pony foals!

Things got a bit messy later when the ponies transformed into thousands of undisciplined slobbery black labrador puppies, all competing for attention.

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Missing bridal gown sleeves induce wedding day panic (Rousse)

With barely ten minutes to spare before the ceremony, the bride was ready – or was she? My mother-in-law froze in horror. What had become of her daughter’s bridal gown’s sleeves? Where were they?!!!

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Unique knitting patterns for all (Rousse)

I made an important scientific discovery: each human hand has a unique print. My left hand print, for example, represented the finest Belgian lace. In contrast my right one comprised two sections, the top half littered with random islamic symbols and the bottom covered in tiny pictures of otters’ heads.

I concocted a clever plan to apply my new knowledge for commercial benefit. I contacted my friend JG to see if she could convert the images into knitting patterns. The idea was that we would make our fortune by selling the patterns on for glove manufacture.

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Birthday Belle oversleeps

Realising that I had been asleep for over 40  years, I decided to wake up.  I was astonished to discover both of my parents at the foot of my bed.  And to learn that it was my birthday.

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Californian gold prospector comes clean in Texas (Rousse)

DT’s father was not, in fact, a dentist. We discovered this on holiday in Texas when I needed urgent dental treatment. Thank goodness we had comprehensive travel insurance.

DT’s father’s real profession was something of a surprise. We were astonished to learn that he was a multimillionaire Californian gold prospector.

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