The perils of shopping in Manchester (Rousse)

My recent experience proved that trading standards really needed to sort out the Manchester market trader problem. A stall owner almost sold me a “solid gold” chain at a knock-down price. I only backed out of the deal when she refused to let me touch the goods without first handing over my cash.

My route back from the market to the hotel was also rather dodgy. Somehow I got lost. The only means of discovering the way home was to climb a steep hill from which there was a full view of the city below. My next problem, however, was how to climb down from the summit. It was so steep and icy, and of the three options for the descent – sledge, ski, or banana slide – none appealed.

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Pensioners unmoved as earthquake strikes Sussex (Rousse)

My in-laws were experienced in earthquake emergency prodedures. They simply followed the drill to lie down on the floor until the last of the shocks had passed through the West Sussex village of Birdham. Meanwhile I did all I could to conceal my panic.

Afterwards TPR passed around a handout about an Edinburgh weekend that he had planned for the family in summer 2012. This proved an interesting diversion for the rest of us as we sunbathed on the patio.

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Rousse longs for the beautiful south

It was the height of English summer. TPR and I stood in the country lane, short-sleeved and carefree. Over the hedge we saw a happy family play tennis in a vast garden. We could just make out the peal of church bells in the distance. Overhead the sun hung forever high in a still blue sky.

This was the beautiful south. This was where I wanted to live.

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A mother’s secret career and further clues of the Baby Ted graveyard (Rousse)

The party of external examiners included an elderly man from Sheffield University, a woman from Loughborough, and a dark-haired systems librarian called Mike Hirst. They all seemed friendly enough although none were interested enough to acknowledge (or perhaps question) who I was, even when I invoked the name of my colleague and mentor ED. They were much happier reminiscing about two earlier visits to the University. On both previous occasions they had examined the PhD students of a now-retired professor called M. It took some time before I realised that the M to whom they referred was my mother. How she had kept her high-flying academic career a secret from us all for so long?

Then the woman from Loughborough emptied out her handbag to reveal that she carried a replica of my sister J’s Baby Ted wherever she went. Had she inside knowledge garnered from my mother of the secret Baby Ted graveyard that I discovered in a drawer at the White House in Stockton-on-Tees circa 1975? This was all a terrible distraction from the business of the day.

I had hoped to hold the viva pre-meeting in one of our smaller offices, but this had recently been converted into a kitchen. The public spaces on campus were too busy for our purposes so I offered my own office, claiming that it was nearby.

The “short walk” to my room turned out to be quite a trek. We left one building, crossed two busy roads, and then faced 16 concrete steps up to the base of a tower block (not unlike the University of Birmingham’s Muirhead Tower). The elderly examiner struggled with the steps and I could tell that he was not pleased with me. It didn’t help that while we were walking over I got caught up in a game on my Blackberry where you were meant to answer simple questions about television soap operas. Needless to say, I was hopeless at this. Before long I started to worry about how much I was spending on premium phone lines.

One hour late my colleague BB finally arrived to act as internal examiner and so I was free to leave the party.

It had warmed up outside while we had been waiting. I took off both my pairs of tights, then skipped back to the main building and my e-mail.

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Partying at the castle and tales of Blondie (Rousse)

I returned to the castle at lunch-time after a whole morning’s work. From the ramparts it looked like nobody was at home. Then RA poked her head out of a tower window, asked me what time it was, and complained that she had a hangover. Taking into account the previous night’s raucous partying, I wasn’t surprised to learn that everyone was still in bed.

Later I managed to catch RG on the sofa. As a musician of great repute he told some fascinating rock’n’roll stories. This afternoon’s theme was the oeuvre of Blondie. I snuggled up closer to RG, keen to catch up on further tales of his exciting life on the road in the 1970s.

Meanwhile below the waves crashed against the castle rocks. There’d be no chance of leaving for the time being, so we might as well enjoy ourselves.

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Rousse averts Las Vegas crime-spree

Normally I hated huge Las Vegas hotels, but this one was an exception. The staff did everything to make you feel at home, right down to changing the name-plates on the bedroom doors each day so that guests believed that their rooms really were their very own.

The facilities on the ground floor impressed me most. Alongside the obligatory gambling hall (in which, I admit, I had no interest) there was an open-plan library. This held the full range of British newspapers and magazines laid out across big oak tables, as well as an upright magnetic Scrabble set the size of a school blackboard positioned near to the escalator. It even included a tile marked “Game in progress” so that you could take a break between moves then return to pick up the game again later on. I could happily live here forever.

Within the hotel complex there was also a huge selection of restaurants, and it was in the middle of dinner when the trouble started. NU snatched a clear plastic salt and pepper grinder from our table and dropped it into the pocket of my long black coat. I could tell that he wanted to see if I could get the grinder out of the restaurant and back to my room without being caught. I was too embarrassed to object, and by the time we left the table I had forgotten all about the hot property inside my pocket.

Our next stop was the hotel cinema. Like everything else, this was vast. Each row of seats even included special tables for storing popcorn buckets. To gain access to the cinema, however, you first had to pass through security where everyone was subjected to an airport-style search. While the super-friendly all-American security guard launched into a full ancestral history to support his claim of Scottish nationality, I was panicking over how to extract the grinder from my pocket and deposit it somewhere where it would not be noticed. I slid it onto the ground against the wall and prayed that my actions were not being recorded on CCTV.

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Humiliated Belle and a clownish revenge

As I walked through the streets of Birmingham, three New Zealanders stopped their car to ask for directions to the jewellery quarter.  I confidently gave them directions, despite not knowing the answer.  However the men called my bluff pointing out the correct route.  As they drove away, I was delighted to see that their vehicle fell apart like a clown car.

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How to rename a directory in Linux (Rousse)

I found the IT support staff in their “office” – a windowless former post room, about the size of a cleaner’s cupboard. One of them was soldering a home-made PC while the other clearly had nothing to do.

Neither paid any attention when I started to explain the problem. It was only when my voice cracked that they looked up and noticed the tears pouring down my face. Now they would take my plight seriously.

Did they please have sufficient knowledge of Linux to rename the hacked directories on my H: drive? It was highly embarrassing to be associated with a directory structure that included a folder called “boobies”.

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Weekends do not start on Thursday afternoons: official (Rousse)

RK hesitated when I said that I would help the French student put his poster up on the wall at the back of the classroom. He asked if I would do this later. For the moment he wanted no distractions in class. The full attention of the students should focus on his opening lecture about the days of the week.

When I listened to his explanation that the weekend does not start on a Thursday afternoon I guessed that he must be fed up with a high absence rate in his Friday classes.

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Antique shopping revelation (Belle)

While antique shopping in Blackheath, I found myself drawn to a wooden display cabinet. Inside I saw an incomplete collection of ‘London Borough medals’. I had no idea such things existed, or that Lewisham’s emblem was a ‘deer’s leap’.

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