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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    A stone age date with Ruaridh Aldridge (Rousse)

    Posted on March 2, 2011 by Dreamaticus

    I spent the eve of my stone age adventure in Reading. MP and his wife A hosted my visit in their large, modern house. No longer a family home, it was still littered with evidence of the departed children. I coveted the plastic jointed toy snake coiled around the banister at the foot of the stairs.

    The next morning I woke bright and early to exchange my white silk pyjamas for an authentic stone age outfit: a coarse grey tunic. Then I met Ruaridh Aldridge, my companion for the day. He was just as excited as I was as we waded, swam and surfed down the river to join the other adventurers at the seashore. My last act on land before we clambered into the coracle for the journey across the sea was to leave a welcome message for those who would meet these shores several centuries later. I dug the words into the muddy bank: “Hello Vikings. Beware the mafia”.

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    Belle goes clubbing and meets a resistance heroine

    Posted on March 1, 2011 by Dreamaticus

    After an excellent night out in a ‘cave rave’ we were forced to take four night buses home, changing at Croydon and Birmingham Broad Street.

    The five year old poppet in ribbons was carrying two pink tulips and a carnation wrapped in newspaper. She was actually working for the French resistance with secret documents hidden in the bouquet. I watched, astonished, as even when she accidentally dropped the bouquet, she distracted the officer by asking prettily “Can YOU sing?”. She really was cool under pressure.

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    Phone fury (Rousse)

    Posted on March 1, 2011 by Dreamaticus

    Was I invisible? The chairman of the meeting allowed one man to dominate the discussion, ignoring my raised hand and futile attempts at eye contact. I was desperate to join the debate and to correct the misassumptions. In my frustration I scribbled a note for Professor PR, seated to my right: ‘This is crazy. Has he never heard of data mining?’ When the speaker introduced a set of rogue statistics to back up his spurious claims I reached for my iPhone. It would take no time to recalculate the figures. It was only then that I discovered that a cunning thief had stolen my iPhone and replaced it with an ancient mobile on the Orange network. My Blackberry was also missing. I was devastated.

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    Feather shift mini-dresses on trend for Spring 2011 (Rousse)

    Posted on February 28, 2011 by Dreamaticus

    My university friend JS excitedly told me all about her new boyfriend Alan. Occasionally she would forget a detail. Fortunately he was just a little further up Dundas Street, so whenever she needed any additional information JS simply ran the few paces uphill to question him. Of more interest, however, was JS’s outfit. She was decked out in a mini-length black shift dress completely covered in white feathers. To keep off the rain she had cut holes for her head and arms through a clear plastic bin liner. Wearing this as an outer layer over the feather dress spoilt the look somewhat.

    =======

    My mother-in-law moaned about the poor state of the woodwork in her house, particularly where the paint had worn off the bottom two steps of the staircase. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that this was an obvious consequence of having too many children.

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    Kate Middleton – Belle’s new best friend

    Posted on February 28, 2011 by Dreamaticus

    I had booked a table at ‘Belle Epoch’, the most famous restaurant in Paris. I was there to meet Kate Middleton for a lunch that had been arranged months before ‘the engagement’. Although this was our first meeting, we decided we were best friends and swapped email addresses.

    At a motorway service station a man who had just arrived from China wanted to buy antibiotics from me. I refused. I needed them myself.

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    A difficult climb half dressed (Belle)

    Posted on February 26, 2011 by Dreamaticus

    I was at the forefront of a new fashion trend. Crisp white shirts and a peaked cap with no trousers, a la President Wensley Dale from Rastamouse. As I was attempting to climb up the grassy slope at school, it became a vertical drop and I had to grab on to P’s hand to haul myself up. It struck me I was re-enacting a scene from North by Northwest half dressed.

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    Gloria Swanson and unnecessary help with a literature review (Rousse)

    Posted on February 26, 2011 by Dreamaticus

    ‘Gloria Swanson?’ confirmed TB (aka Texas T). ‘Recurrent dreams about a silent movie star means only one thing. Your future career lies in Hollywood!’ In response I led him to the far end of the bar away from our family members and the smattering of work colleagues. There I whispered my secret.

    JB whipped out a black felt tip pen and drew a grid on the blank sheet of paper. ‘We’ve read the summary of your research idea’, he said, ‘and now I’ll show you how to categorise the content of the sources that you have identified into a literature review’. I was a little puzzled as to why my work merited such close supervision. Then I remembered that the last person to edit my file was (the inexpert) TPR.

    **Postscript, 1st March 2011**
    TB has been in touch to tell Dreamaticus that his grandfather’s surname was Swanson – spooky…

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