Efficient builders and a tramp (Belle)

I looked out of the front window and was amazed to see the street had been scaffolded over by dozens of builders. The local tramp couldn’t find the way in to his usual den.

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Belle’s luck on the lottery

The reading of the lottery results was postponed so the announcer could mend my broken mirror. I was not the mysterious foreign ambassador who was invited to all the best possible parties, but I was travelling with her. What was my father doing lurking in the back garden? And which of the cleaning products under the sink was the murder weapon?

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Rousse, the National Library Boy, and the Social Network

I was so flattered when the young researcher in the National Library of Scotland asked me if I’d like to go and see The Social Network with him. I explained that I’d made other arrangements, heaved my work and gym bags on to my shoulders, and set off to join TPR. When we reached the cinema my new friend appeared next to us in the queue so I invited him to sit with us. JH and my ex-office mate AP came along later. It was really annoying that the film was shown in the foyer-cum-greenhouse rather than in a proper movie theatre, but at least this made it possible to talk to my new friend. He told me that his name was Nim, and when he shared his 3×5 catalogue cards with me I was able to work out from the bibliographic details that he was researching information flows in the NHS.

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Rousse in time warp trouble

It was simultaneously 1982 and 2010, so I was back at the University of Birmingham as a 47 year-old first year. I made a triumphant return to OH7, my first bedroom at the Manor House. Unfortunately my joy was eclipsed by the disdain of boys who failed to appreciate my day-time uniform of purple fleece jim-jams and spangled beanie head-wear. When I shouted at a woman to put out a cigarette in a lecture, she replied ‘It’s 1982. I can smoke anywhere‘.

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Lifts, lingerie and little people (Rousse)

I only wanted to go up to the 7th floor in the hotel lift so what were we doing zipping into space Tardis-style to the 807th floor?

When I got home I found that my sister-in-law’s “looking after the house” routine included festooning all the radiators with her glamorous underwear.

Glad to be back in my own bed again I spotted that a large part of the bedroom wall had disappeared. The builder explained to me that the space was for a secret nursery, but was currently inhabited by dwarves.

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Belle bites dog

I was wandering around an airport/service station type shop that sold lots of flowers when I absentmindedly bit the ear off a beautifully fashioned chocolate dog. I had to confess to a man behind the till and he fashioned a prostethic ear out of plywood and said, ‘no harm done’.

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Rousse the jam tart robber

I stole a jam tart from a room service afternoon tea trolley before bumping into someone from the past who had shrunk to the size of an 8-year old, thanks to gastric band surgery. I also saw the table plan for a school reunion and wondered where ST would be sitting.

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EastCoast now offered full-sized beds for the return journey to Edinburgh, but you had to fight for them, and sometimes share a double with a stranger.

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Belle faces up to Rousse’s regular routine

I was at some kind of boffin convention and gradually, over lunch, I realised they were looking to me to ‘tell them stuff’. The horror.

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Gary Richardson guides Rousse home

ETS got it into her head that if she kept digging with a spoon just outside the entrance to Tesco, she would discover what had happened to Jane, who had been missing for weeks. I knew that the body lay under there, yet was determined that ETS should not find it. I wasn’t responsible for the murder, but knew that there would be trouble if bones were found.

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WB looked very slim in the park, but where was the baby? AB arrived with a double pram and two babies, both alarmingly good-looking, one fair, one dark.

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I regretted cooking AK’s Christmas pudding in my shoe: it would taste awful.

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After I negotiated the back our flooded back garden I found a wonderful beach with massive dunes populated by athletes. I was guided back home by the BBC’s Gary Richardson.

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Campus-based crime caper (Rousse)

VJ warned us that there was a murderer in our midst: 8 students had disappeared mysteriously in the past 6 months. Signs of threats to School staff were the discovery of my black jacket in a pond (MR kindly paddled in to retrieve it) and the suggestion that SC buy a house on a cliff edge. The prime suspect was a slightly overweight female (possibly Italian?) lecturer who was now demanding a private meeting with the Head of School. I begged SS not to attend, or at least take GR as a bodyguard. VJ’s parents dashed around making cakes and changing sheets.

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