Dreamaticus

Tiny, white shorts and long bronzed legs – the hot look for summer 2011! I made this discovery on the second day of spring, observing the young women of Edinburgh make their way into work dressed as if they were setting off for an afternoon at the beach. This fashion craze was not for the likes of me. Long gowns were more my forte. I advised an Oscar-nominated actress on red carpet cover-ups and worked hard to persuade her to buy a purple wool cape to complement a silver robe.

Meanwhile I had my own clothing problems. Someone in the London office had put my underwear into the wash with everyone else’s. There’d been a huge mix-up and the tiny knickers that found their way back to me were clearly not mine. Until I got to the bottom of this laundry calamity, I was obliged to work naked. This was rather inconvenient, but at least I had Belle’s company at my desk for a while.

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What an achievement: not only had I managed to cross one of the most complex road layouts in London, but the tannoy announcer had referred to me publicly as a “young lady”! I’d rather ignore the fact that I’d almost been killed. The hero of the hour was a motocross biker who’d acted as my outrider to escort me safely across the dangerous junction. He could not hide his surprise and delight when I offered to buy him a drink in thanks.

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I thought that we were well hidden squeezed together at the back of the lecture hall. We were working on grant proposals on our laptops rather than paying full attention to the speakers. I only realised that we were being filmed when the PowerPoint slides switched to photographs of grinning celebrities, supposedly to encourage the audience members to look happier for the official record of the event. The gurning black and white image of Elton John was no incentive to smile.