I thought that my childhood home had been abandoned, but now I found that various committees considered it a top venue for their gatherings.
A woman asked me directions to the room for her next meeting. I ignored her. All I wanted to do was talk about the old configuration of the house, and show off my old bedroom.
Evicted from our house, we continued to live nearby in our car. There were two other ‘households’ resident in the seaside car park: a family of Eastern Europeans in a van, and two African women in a peeling-paint blue wooden beach hut.
One day when TPR was ‘out’ exercising, I heard a cry from one of the Africans. I looked over and saw that she was holding up a melon.
‘There’s free fruit on the shoreline!’ she shouted.
This was an opportunity too good to miss. Still dressed in my blue flowered pyjamas, I ran across the tarmac to the grassy clifftop. Beneath me I could see yellow melons bouncing in the water, and big bunches of banana strewn along the shore.
‘Great’, I thought, ‘Fruit salad all round!’
All I needed to do now was pick my way along the rough path down through the brambles to gather this unusual harvest from the sea.
The helicopter pilot sped us high up and over the English countryside.
My favourite view was of some mountain top action. A young climber embarked on his descent by ski-ing over the woolly backs of a flock of sheep.
So anxious was I to protect the neighbours’ parrot that when I reached to grab the black cat, I accidentally strangled poor Pussy.
I was looking out of the bedroom window, wondering how a new ‘tricycle lane’ had been built in the garden without me noticing. A small girl on a pale blue tricycle was struggling to drive through the muddy flower beds. As I watched, I saw a squirrel leap onto the mudguard and hold his paws out to help another squirrel on board. The second squirrel performed two perfect somersaults before landing perfectly.
I was irritated, but impressed.
Mohamed Al-Fayed and I met regularly to play Scrabble. I taught him all the best words, including ‘xi’.
As I hung out the washing on a large expanse of beach, I considered myself a genius. The onshore wind would soon dry everything. Why had nobody else ever thought of using the sands as a vast drying green?
Of course, I forgot to take into account the tide. When I returned later to collect the laundry, the two washing lines were completely submerged under the waves, and I was an object of ridicule.
With her shaved head, my sister resembled our three boy cousins. Why would she take such drastic action to look so terrible?
When she modelled her first wig, I understood. She could change her look instantly to match with her extensive wardrobe. She went from ginger mop-top to blonde pig-tailed milkmaid in seconds.
Dreamaticus 