To Stornoway by bus via Perth (Rousse)

Posted on May 13, 2023 by Dreamaticus

Finally the crammed bus set off for Stornoway via Perth – but before we’d even reached the outskirts of town, the driver was lost. We ended up in the cul-de-sac of a new housing estate still under construction. This tiny close was not the main road north.

The driver turned the vehicle round and retraced his route back into town. He pulled up at the bus station, then announced that he was leaving us for a few minutes while he checked the way out of town with his colleagues. I asked if there was time for me to use the station toilets and he confirmed that there was.

The bus driver was much quicker taking directions than I was using the facilities. An altercation with a bunch of lads – who thought it amusing to threaten to attack me while I was on the toilet – partly accounted with my late return to the bus’ parking spot. By this time, however, the vehicle had left. I had no hope of reaching Stornoway with the others that day.

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Waiting for the headmistress (Rousse)

Posted on May 12, 2023 by Dreamaticus

The teachers stood patiently in a long line, creating a human snake that encircled the school hall. I joined them, keen to discover whether or not the attraction out of sight at the head of the queue was worth the wait.

They were all desperate to share at least a couple of words with an ancient, wrinkled, white-haired old lady – their former headmistress. Long retired, she still held herself like the woman-in-charge, and was obviously greatly loved and missed by her former colleagues.

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2023 sycamore seedling infestation reaches new heights (Rousse)

Posted on May 12, 2023 by Dreamaticus

I climbed high up the red brick wall that separated our back garden from the narrow yard next door. When I reached the top, I complained to myself about the mess of smashed clay plant pots and broken plastic containers strewn across the small platform.

Then I saw the sycamore seedlings. ‘Not here as well!’ I complained.

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Summer weather in the Outer Hebrides (Rousse)

Posted on May 7, 2023 by Dreamaticus

NP had persuaded her friends to accompany us on a trip to the Outer Hebrides. This was on the basis of my large archive of photographs of the deserted white sandy beaches that fringed the sea of Caribbean blue, sparkling in glorious summer sunshine under vast cloudless skies.

The problem was that this collection of pictures had been assembled over several years, and it was not representative of a typical leaden-sky week in the Western Isles. Worse still, so far this trip had also been marred by a downpour that had started as soon as we disembarked the ferry. It looked like the rain would never stop.

NP gathered her friends together and announced to all that her patience had run out. She was returning to the mainland with anyone else who wanted to give up on this sodden holiday.

I had a feeling that as soon as NP and her followers stepped onto the boat, the sun would come out again.

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Pork for Jews (Rousse)

Posted on May 7, 2023 by Dreamaticus

Imogen was hopeless as a member of our book/gourmet dining/art and literature travel club. Who else would ever try to argue that a pork stew fitted with the dietary requirements of our Jewish member?

No matter the butchery method, I insisted, pork is always the flesh of a pig.

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A wedding in the north Lake District (Rousse)

Posted on May 5, 2023 by Dreamaticus

The Cumbrian pub just off the M6 was crammed with wedding guests. They queued everywhere – for their room keys, to use the bathroom, at the dining room door at breakfast etc.

The low bathroom to guest ratio meant that sharing the bath water was expected. I jumped in after TPR, forgetting to take off my T shirt and mint green cardigan.

As I set off back to our bedroom, a wedding guest in the bathroom queue spotted my soaked clothes. It was only when she joked that she hoped that I had another outfit for the wedding ceremony that I realised that I had not packed anything suitable. Another person joined in the conversation with the suggestion that if I was no longer planning to come to the ceremony, perhaps I could babysit her son for the afternoon?

Meanwhile TPR was fielding questions from others about our connection to the bride and groom. He batted them away with replies along the lines of ‘They are friends of my wife’. However, when I checked the names on the blackboard in reception that listed wedding arrangements, I was certain that I had never heard of this Stephen and his fiancée.

In fact, we had only booked this accommodation to give us a break on our journey north away a holiday in the south of England. We had nothing to do with the bridal party, their family or friends. Rather, everyone else had just swept us up into their plans, assuming that our booking was for the same reason as theirs.

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The dead with an Egyptian theme (Rousse)

Posted on May 4, 2023 by Dreamaticus

I tucked myself under my father-in-law’s shoulder as we walked up Edinburgh’s London Road together. He was so warm and loving towards me, displaying far more affection now than he ever did when he was alive.

Meanwhile, in the grounds of Stirling Castle my girlfriends and I were decorating the inside of the shrine to ED, whose funeral had taken place at the same time as that of my father-in-law. Someone asked if it would be appropriate to contribute a model of an Egyptian pyramid to the construction. I supported this idea wholeheartedly – not least because I had already bought a replica golden funerary mask of Tutankhamun to take pride of place within it.

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Gifts and guests shattered in Sunderland (Rousse)

Posted on April 25, 2023 by Dreamaticus

M and AP hosted their joint 60th birthday and ruby wedding anniversary party in Sunderland – a place with which they had no connection whatsoever. I travelled most of the way there by car up the A1, finishing the journey by local train.

As their honoured guests, TPR and I were accommodated in the same huge hotel bedroom as our hosts with two adult couples (our hosts’ children and spouses), and two toddlers (their grandchildren). To us, this was no treat, but a promise of certain insomnia.

On top of everything else, with the exception of a bottle of ruby port, all the beautiful presents that I had packed carefully in a gift box had smashed in transit. I blamed MP for hurling our bags onto the floor of the shared bedroom at the time of our arrival.

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Shameful colonial furniture (Rousse)

Posted on April 22, 2023 by Dreamaticus

While JM popped out to buy éclairs (or similar) and TPR tackled the washing up, I took a close look at the crumbling antique furniture that was rammed into the space at the bottom of our stairs.

Why did we own a tatty Victorian secretaire covered in cursive script that charted its heritage? I recognised the name ‘Sadie’ from the early twentieth century, but none of the others were associated with my family.

At the centre of the secretaire’s ‘lid’, the wording and carved images indicated that the first owner was a military officer in colonial India. In that case, I was not too sure that I wanted to find any family association with this shabby wooden object.

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Holidays for widows (Rousse)

Posted on April 18, 2023 by Dreamaticus

Out of earshot TPR’s earshot, DJ told me that he and his wife FB were making plans for future holidays with me.

‘What about TPR?’ I asked?

‘He’ll have died of stress by then’, he responded without emotion.

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