Rousse escapes the timetable but gets trapped by her past

A timetabling mix-up meant that it was now up to me to entertain the final year students for two hours. I rummaged in the box of handouts that I had taken to the last class in the desperate hope that I’d discover an unused exercise. There was no suitable material: how on earth would I entertain them for the rest of the morning?

How fortunate then that one of the older students appeared at my door with an escape plan. He announced that he was taking me on a trip, and soon we were speeding through the damp autumn lanes in his open-top sports cars. Dodging the waist-height cables of the West Sussex Electricity Company strewn across the road at random intervals added to the fun of the ride.

At our final destination of Looe, Cornwall I asked my companion his age. When he said that he was 23 and leant down to kiss me I knew that he was lying. However, I didn’t have long to consider this because just then I felt a sharp poke of pain in my ribs delivered from behind. GG, TPR’s first year hall of residence room-mate, had witnessed everything. “Do you have to snog all your students?” he enquired.

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Security enforcement with Charlie Drake and sliding with Suggs (Belle)

Thirty years after I did it the first time, I was now moving into my hall of residence. This time round I was at ‘a Northern University’ but had no idea which one. When I lay on my single bed, I realised I could look down five floors all the way to the wooden jetty. Vertigo! Looking up at me was a group of people sitting in a boat, beckoning me to join them. Convinced this was a case of mistaken identity, I thought it would be more considerate of me to clear the fire escapes of all my unpacked cardboard boxes.

After tidying up, I went downstairs and saw RA standing with his back to me. He turned to look at me, smiled and gathered me in his arms for a long kiss. I tried to ignore the looks I got from fellow students. He was FAR too good looking for me.

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I was in a nightclub in Jamaica. The walls were mirrored and I spotted a man taking a bottle of rum and putting it into his jacket. I realised that I was in charge of security, along with Charlie Drake. We apprehended the man, removed the rum and even managed to send the thief away with a smile. We were a great team.

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Later, in another dream, I told Suggs about my dream about Charlie Drake. As we clicked on Charlie Drake’s Wikipedia entry we were astonished to discover that he had dictated the entry on his deathbed. It was his dying wish that not one word be changed.

Suggs and I sat in the back of a cab in Berlin. I was astonished to discover that the Olympic ice-rink had been built with a right of way for taxis. Twice we sped across the ice even as couples danced in front of the crowds.

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What to not wear (anywhere) (Rousse)

All week LM had been wandering the gym floor in her fitness instructor uniform. Now that it was Saturday morning she had changed into a full length taffeta ball gown. The dress was embarrassingly vile. Its ballooning peach skirt was topped with a burgundy bodice with shawl combo. LM explained that she was wearing the dress in the gym to practise her moves as a bridesmaid for a wedding that afternoon. I didn’t dare ask who created this hideous outfit, but I was sure that MSB would have much to say about it.

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Sex change surgery marriage trap (Rousse)

Tall, slim, out-going, blonde and beautiful, Sharon would someday make someone a lovely wife. As far as I was concerned, however, the time was not now. In addition, when the happy day eventually came, I expected that her groom would be a good, straight man.

So why was this woman introducing me to all her friends and family as her fiancé, while dropping private hints about my forthcoming sex change? We barely knew one another, and the thought of surgery terrified me. Didn’t she know that there was no way I could consider living with someone when I hadn’t even confirmed that the potential partner shared my neatness obsession?

In complete misery, then, I arranged a secret rendez-vous at Loch Lomond with TPR. I was hopeful that he could rescue me from this terrible marriage-with-surgery trap. Perhaps he would marry me instead? When he revealed that he was leaving the country for a new job in Italy I knew all was lost. I stumbled in shock, and slid all the way down the grassy bank to the water.

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A surprising new role (Belle)

This new entrepreneurial venture had taken me unawares. Was I really a landlady of this seaside bed and breakfast operation? Who had decorated the place with net curtains and rich red velvets? And since when had I taken up smoking?

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A day out with Ian Rankin (Rousse)

I was unsure why I was entertaining Ian Rankin at my kitchen table, but it had to happen eventually. I’d been (unintentionally) stalking him in Edinburgh for years, or – as I often joked – he’d been stalking me. Plonked next to him I summoned up the courage to ask if he enjoyed the Uncaged Monkeys at the EICC in May, or the Band of Joy gig at the Usher Hall a year ago. (I managed to contain myself and refrain from boasting that we had better seats than him at the latter, and met Robert Plant, Marco Giovino and the other band members at the after-show party.) Ian seemed to like me and rewarded my witty banter with a chaste wet kiss on the cheek. I quickly wiped it away, blushing modestly, yet secretly delighted.

Afterwards we went for a walk to Portobello, hoping to discover the beautiful park that everyone admired. All we found, however, was a bare coastal path that led to a large shopping mall. When we asked a passer-by for directions I was surprised that he showed no recognition of one of the most famous faces in town. Still we couldn’t find the park so instead we admired the Japanese mountains across the Forth, while discussing @Beathhigh’s Twitter conversations with our mutual friend DT.

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Secret military airbase at Edinburgh airport harbours unexpected relations (Rousse)

I knew that it was too good to be true, but this didn’t stop my enjoying the company of my long-dead aunt, uncle and grandmother when I stumbled across them living happily together in a small house on the edge of the secret military airbase next to Edinburgh airport. It was also comforting to know that although he wasn’t with us in person on this occasion, BT (also dead several years) was spending the day out drinking in town with my (very much alive) friend JH.

My relations all looked fabulous, especially my aunt. All slim and fit, she was just back from the dentist who had issued her with clean bill of dental health. Granny dressed daringly in a baggy Kate Middleton-themed royal wedding souvenir “Frankie says” T shirt. The over-sized white lettering on navy blue shouted “Call me Kate!”

What puzzled VJ, KT and I as visitors was the quantity of children milling about the house. I only knew three boy cousins, but here there were at least another eight younger siblings. I cornered one and asked how many there were in total. “We don’t know” came the reply, “Mummy just says that we are now full”. The stress of looking after everyone may have accounted for my aunt’s lunchtime habit of diluting her tomato juice with a pint of red wine. I didn’t blame her and – as she pointed out herself – her little treat would not harm anyone else.

It turned out that one of my newly identified cousins was school teacher. I discovered this when I asked about the two large screens in the sitting room. One of the younger boys explained that his elder sister Lesley used them to access to the national Scottish teachers’ network. He then taught me how to hack into it. I wondered who thought up the system’s sorry name of “Gloom”.

This was not the only technology that puzzled me: more was found in the toilets. When I popped out to use the facilities at the airbase I noticed that everything was adapted for the special needs of athletes and military personnel. I had no idea that plumbing could be so sophisticated.

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Home improvement – with sheep (Rousse)

The Edinburgh New Town by Brendan MacNeill

The Edinburgh New Town by Brendan MacNeill

The house was a-buzz with DIY and related domestic projects. While my university friend SB hosed down the steps to our New Town basement, TPR dismantled the broken external door handle to take for repair by the locksmith. It was astonishing that we hadn’t been burgled in the fortnight that the door to the posh sitting room had lain open. A canny thief would have had a field day amongst our priceless antiques.

Meanwhile in the kitchen the decorators found a succession of wall calendars dating back three decades. They stacked them up, all ready for me to archive. Curious to see whether our lives had always been quite so busy I flicked through the calendar entries all the way back to the 1990s. I felt a wave of nostalgia as I reached that period when we seriously considered moving south to London.

Later in the day, when I was waiting for the slow (but reliable) plumber from Cambridge to arrive and install a brand new underfloor heating system, I watched the upstairs neighbour add to a growing pile of life-size metal-framed sheep statues in the street next to the communal rubbish bins. I wondered how I could secretly sneak them back into the building and home them in our flat. I really needed to discuss my tactics with someone else so I invited our landlady in for a chat over coffee. Politely she refused: sharing hot beverages with the tenants was liable to be classed as a perk of her job, and she couldn’t afford to take the risk of being taxed on taking breaks.

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Rousse the scone thief

The serving staff tried to shoo us out of the dining room by telling us to come back when it opened for breakfast. We stood our ground, refusing to leave hungry. Eventually some cellophane-wrapped green taco shells were found for us. We reluctantly accepted this offering and were just about to set off again when we spied a tray of freshly-baked sultana and cherry scones on a distant table. This was more like it! We hurried over, stole a good selection, then made our escape.

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Streisand marries Nolte – and Palin! (Belle)

I was awake all night. How fortunate then that a television set had mysteriously appeared at the foot of the bed. I was able to watch two full feature films.

In the first, Barbra Streisand was married to Nick Nolte. He took her to a shop, totally empty except for a reggae DJ and a set of decks and speakers. Nolte’s character slowly removed a 12 inch single from its shrink wrapping, handed it to the DJ and, as the music started, embraced his wife. As the scene became more explicit, they were interrupted by the phone ringing. It was the in-laws who wanted to ask Barbra’s character exactly how she was feeling. This had been an elaborate ploy by the husband to encourage his wife to be more conversational in bed. This was the last straw for the wife, whose character later married Michael Palin.

It later emerged that every character in the movie was revealed through a different piece of music.

The second film, starring Doris Day, was called ‘By Quiet Creek’. Later I was able to describe the films to a friend, so that I could illustrate how little I had slept.

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I collected every item in a range of beauty products only available from Boots the Chemist, but was upset by their constant adding items to the range. Didn’t they know how poor I was?

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