Belle unmasked as a thief on primetime TV

Posted on March 10, 2011 by Dreamaticus

My modernist 1950s clock, shaped like a boat, was causing a stir on The Antiques Roadshow. With a value well into seven figures it was quite literally a ‘museum piece’. As the cameras panned into my face, I was asked to explain how a clock last seen in the Birmingham Art Gallery and Museum had found its way into my possession.

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Civil attack at site of Glencoe massacre (Rousse)

Posted on March 10, 2011 by Dreamaticus

The lateness of the hour and darkening sky put paid to our plan to walk over the mountains from Glencoe back to Edinburgh. SJ suggested that we hitch a lift instead, so we took our chances in a gravelled lay-by, thumbs at the ready. Within minutes my fears were realised. In the pitch black a man, his dog, and toddler grandson made a combined attack on us.

Afterwards the grandfather kindly led us back to his house, where he introduced us to his family. I delivered a lecture on good manners to the child, who – by now – deeply regretted his actions. Finally the family thanked us for our participation with a delicious cup of weak leaf tea and arranged our safe transport home by car.

(In a related scene, on the grounds that this was no longer the fashion, SJ begged me not to change into pyjamas to present my conference paper.)

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Madonna’s lentil stores (Belle)

Posted on March 9, 2011 by Dreamaticus

Whilst working for Madonna I found myself in charge of ‘lentil transfer’. This included scooping lentils with my bare hands out of a sack and placing them in a glass bowl. I was able to transfer lentils twice as fast as anyone else.

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A cycling trip and late admiration (Rousse)

Posted on March 9, 2011 by Dreamaticus

“I never imagined that I would settle in the UK” said PhD student VW. “In fact, I fully expected to be living in Poland by now”. He led me into the smart building on the western side of Edinburgh where he rented apartment number 118. I stuck to him closely wherever possible, although I chose to open doors to get from one room to the next whereas VW sometimes climbed over walls. All floors and flats were decorated and furnished identically in pale blue and white French paysan style: one wrong turn and I would be lost in this maze forever. Although it had started to rain, we followed through our plan to collect EM and TPR, hunt for some appropriate clothing in the enormous cardboard boxes in VW’s yard, then cycle out to East Lothian for the afternoon.

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As I walked around the new campus I was joined by a suited man who looked vaguely familiar. He reminded me that he took my undergraduate Knowledge Management class in the early noughties. He had returned for two reasons: to view the new building himself, and to tell me how useful my module had turned out to be in later life.

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Tea out training and “terror” on the trains (Rousse)

Posted on March 8, 2011 by Dreamaticus

Running through the countryside with LF urging me on was all fine and dandy, but who had come up with the idea of serving afternoon tea at the same time? I struggled to keep the tea in my mug, especially on the bends.

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Instead of asking for connecting train times at the information booth, my podgy blonde travelling companion announced loudly that she was my minder, harbouring a “dangerous criminal”. I interrupted to apologise for the ramblings of this fantasist, and to confirm the time of our WMPTE connection.

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‘Friends’ the movie airs on hotel TV channel (Rousse)

Posted on March 7, 2011 by Dreamaticus

Jennifer Aniston, Matt LeBlanc, Courtney Cox, Matthew Perry, David Schwimmer and Lisa Kudrow were all instantly recognisable. I had accidentally stumbled across the unknown Friends movie on an obscure hotel TV channel. A few years on, the scenes portrayed Rachel Green as a high school teacher, a long-haired Joey Tribbiani up to his usual womanising tricks, and a rather overweight Chandler Bing. I was disappointed not to be able to see the whole film and discover what became of all the characters in the end, but it felt rude to watch television when other hotel residents joined me in the sitting room.

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The brown bullock attacked as I was trying to wheel the tandem through a gate. Thank goodness my father was there with all his equipment. He lassoed the beast around the neck and fought it to the ground. Such were his veterinary powers that the bullock rapidly shrank in size before our very eyes, and within minutes my father was cradling a tiny, helpless, creature in the palm of his hand.

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Belle fails to buy bread

Posted on March 6, 2011 by Dreamaticus

Once again, the Thames had become as broad as the eye could see and I was punting up-river on a massive barge. I was off to fetch ‘the best bread in the world’.

When I got to the bakers, I could see loaves and cakes, all as big as armchairs, piled up in the back room. I realised I did not know how to ask for the loaf I wanted and, to avoid embarrassment, I went home empty-handed.

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Making money on the buses (Rousse)

Posted on March 6, 2011 by Dreamaticus

I rode my favourite front seat on the top deck of the bus all the way to our destination, very much looking forward to seeing MM at the meeting. As the stop on York Place drew near my two companions grabbed their bags and made their way downstairs. I remembered that my own rucksack and handbag were on the lower deck and followed the others down to retrieve my belongings. Before I knew it, everyone else had alighted at the stop while I was still fussing over the £10 and £20 notes in the purse of my green handbag, wondering if any had been stolen. When the bus started up again I ran to the front to complain. “You’ll just have to get off at the next stop, cross the road, and catch the next bus heading in the other direction” advised the driver. “But I don’t have another £1.20 in change for the fare!” I moaned. “No problem” she cheerily replied “Under the ‘Missed Stop Compensation Scheme’ I am obliged to reimburse you. Here, have £15”.

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Jordan spotted “snogging” mystery hunk (Rousse)

Posted on March 5, 2011 by Dreamaticus

Katie Price was the last person that I expected to see at a banquet on a remote Scottish island. She looked terrible from close quarters: overweight with yellowing teeth, luminous hair extensions and orange skin. Undeterred, she’d brought along some recent studio photographs to prove that she was still beautiful. However, even PhotoShop struggled to disguise the cellulite on her thighs and tummy.

Katie finally admitted that her star was waning. When she started to cry TPR leant over and kissed her on the cheek. He announced that this was to “cheer her up”, but everyone knew that he would later boast that he had “snogged Jordan”.

Read about Katie Price’s other antics on Dreamaticus:

  • Ramon Marquez stars as Jordan in birthday biopic (Rousse)
  • Katie Price’s (aka Jordan) career on the conference circuit, and a life of crime in Australia (Rousse)
  • Jordan heart attack scare (Rousse)
  • Katie Price hunts for husband number 8 (Rousse)
  • Katie Price returns to work as earnings drop (Rousse)
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    Mastercard seagull scam, logarithms and triplets (Rousse)

    Posted on March 4, 2011 by Dreamaticus

    The seagull swooped over our heads displaying its booty. I couldn’t believe it. How had the sandwich scavanger managed to steal someone’s Mastercard? At closer range I saw that the card was an A4 replica. It was just a fake for a TV commercial shoot. I extracted the “card” from the bird’s beak to keep as a souvenir.

    So who else knew about logarithms? Those schooled in the 1970s knew what I was talking about, and the 1960s schoolchildren proudly boasted how they passed O level maths without the aid of a calculator. Anyone under the age of 30 was banned from participating in our erudite conversation.

    Even though our new house was enormous, it had not occurred to me that it might be a hotel. How annoying that each night we had to reserve our table for dinner. The first night other guests were expected so I made an effort with my dress. I wore my pink brocade frock and matching patent leather pumps. The next day I sunbathed in the garden looking out for neighbours. The posh family who owned the adjoining estate drove past in their open-top stretch Bentley, huddled under a pile of furs, apparently oblivious to the heat. Later in the day I looked forward to the arrival of my nephew P, niece A, and their triplet baby siblings.

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