My friend AD was showing me a magazine feature on personalised registration plates and the people to whom they belonged – plus how much they had paid for them. We spotted a few people we knew.
By far the most expensive number plate was the one depicting ‘the crossed asparagus spears of the City of London’.
The local hospital held a fund-raising sale of old medical equipment. When I spotted the beautiful collection of old porcelain bed pans and potties I knew instantly that LF would want to buy them all. However, her contribution – though worthy – would not save the NHS. I wondered why the hospital staff had not simply planned a trip to the English south coast where the shores are lined with gold.
While showing off my internet auctions skills I accidentally bought a painting by Gustav Klimt for £1million. Shortly afterwards there was a London-wide blackout and I planned to excuse my time-wasting purchase as a ‘power surge’.
It wasn’t clear who my breakfast guests were at first. They had arrived via speedboat from the other side of the bay and were wrapped up in full-length, hooded, fake leopardskin gowns. Only when they removed their hoods did I realise that, despite being the last to leave the party the night before, Nelson Mandela, and his wife were visiting us again.
It was a constitutional crisis. The Queen herself conveyed the disappointing news to a bewildered nation: contrary to popular belief, David and Victoria Beckham were not legally married.
I went out drinking with TPR and his former colleague LC. They got so drunk that I was forced to confiscate LC’s car keys and shove the pair of them on the number 26 bus to get them home safely.
As we walked along the seafront Eric Morecombe and I analysed classic British comedy series. I managed to express how some simply were not funny, cleverly avoiding mention of how much I disliked Morecombe and Wise.
Later I was back on duty at the communal garden and laundrette. Someone had been stealing from the washing powder supply again.
The Royal Liverpool Insurance Company offers genteel holiday accommodation in Scarborough, especially favoured by trades union officials.
1000 tracks had been assembled in response to my idea for a student Desert Island Discs evening. AJ’s pal Richard did most of the work, seeing this as an opportunity for raising his profile in readiness for an application for a full-time lecturing post.
Unfortunately a succession of technical hiccups meant that the show in the large lecture theatre didn’t get underway until 06:10, and this proved extremely inconvenient to me three hours later when I had to start an exam in the adjoining room. When I went through to complain about the noise someone grabbed me, hauled me up high into the rafters of the lecture theatre, then dropped me head-first into the audience below.
By some miracle I head-planted into a midnight blue velvet turban and did not break my neck. However, I was extremely embarrassed when my pink cotton skirt fell forward to reveal to all my silky black knickers.
Dreamaticus 