We returned to our old dental practice, hoping that they would take us back. The elderly dentist ushered us into his premises through the tatty hall (littered with spent tissues and lumps of chewing gum).
At the waiting room counter, he took down our details. While I was happy to wait until December for my next check-up, TPR insisted on the earliest available appointment.
Meanwhile other patients created a queue behind us. They stood in a mound of dried pulses, reputed to calm the nerves.
My last two trips across the city on my motorbike from Merchiston had been fraught with danger. On the first I rode with my eyes closed (I was tired) and could have easily taken out any other road user or pedestrian. On the second I was TPR’s passenger. He disregarded any aspects of the Highway Code that interfered with his journey, such as waiting for the traffic lights to change at busy junctions.
Now I was much safer, travelling by bus with my precious cargo of smart work clothes, including a blue Brenish Tweed jacket and my Christian Lacroix suit. My school friend GT was with me, fully expecting to be asked if she wanted my cast-off clothes. However, she wouldn’t hear such an offer. This was because I was going to wear these clothes with sparkles across my tummy. I just had to find my box of black sequins, which was rolling around somewhere on the floor of the bus.
Due to my early morning routine of walking the city streets, I witnessed the 6:00am raid on the hall of residence by the canal. The rumour was that the police took out a terrorist cell that was operating out of the University.
On my way home I called in on PhD student JM. A young woman (a girlfriend?!) answered the door. ‘I’ve come to see my brother’, I explained. ‘That’s fine’, she replied as she let me in.
JM’s flat was very busy. It was almost as if a party had been organised and I had been deliberately excluded from it. When I told EH about the raid on the student halls, she burst into tears.
It was soon obvious that the young woman was a long-standing girlfriend. She had put a lot of effort into catering for the guests and I felt (as her quasi sister-in-law) that it was my place to help with the clearing up. The main issue was that she had over-estimated numbers and there was an excess of vegetables to either repurpose or throw out. I offered to take them home to transform into delicious vegetarian dishes to share, and/or to add them to my compost heap.
A Danish boy stood over me while I was washing up. He was just as surprised as me when I said to him in good Norwegian that he ought to help. He obeyed my instruction before I had to chance to practise any further my Nordic language skills.
I told my colleagues that I wanted a grey leaving party.
My formerly miserable colleague PT exhibited great enthusiasm for the plans. However, he broke the rules by turning up with a huge, brown, chocolate cake.
EH told me not to worry as she placed her iPad mini on the top rack of the dishwasher.
‘It’s perfectly safe’ she said. ‘This is the way that all the young people clean their tablets these days.’
My new business venture – selling vinyl records at a stall in the local church – seemed to be going so well. My fellow stall holders were delighted with the turnout.
However, I failed to check my handbag, and when I opened it several small monkeys ran out and proceeded to cause chaos. Vinyl records were removed from their sleeves and thrown at shoppers. Purses were rifled and people began to scream. I could only look on in horror as the monkeys moved towards the silver candlesticks on the altar.
First I was nearly trampled by a herd of black cattle running away from a swarm of flies.
Then I got caught up in MS’s fishing line, with multiple tiny hooks embedded in the white flesh of my left arm.
It was not a good day to be ‘enjoying’ the great outdoors.
It was Belle’s birthday. She invited us all to go to the cinema with her.
While we were queuing to pay for our tickets, I noticed a poster for a post-film pub quiz. I was keen to take part in this with everyone else. However, the end time was too late for me: my last train home left long before 10pm.
I wondered out loud whether Belle might invite me to spend the night at her place, ostensibly to join the pub quiz. In reality, my heart’s desire was to steal some precious extra hours with my dear friend, together alone.
Donald Trump’s fall from power was so great that he now worked in advertising sales for David Elstein’s media empire. My good friend JM also worked for Elstein, so gave me access to the once ‘great’ man.
One day I took advantage of my connection to the former president and chatted to him about his future plans. He lapped up all the attention, especially since most of his workmates actively ignored him whenever possible. Very subtly, I brought him round to the question of the next presidential election. Would he stand? It seemed that he would, and the scoop was mine.
One of the other colleagues told me that he was about to leave the company. He asked if I could pass a parting gift on to JM, who out of the office that day. I willingly took the small square plate of steel, engraved with words of admiration and thanks for JM. JM’s soon-to-be former colleague proudly told me that he had composed the string of kind words all by himself.
I took the coach to Ape World with a bunch of school friends. All were in the same form as me, but with the exception of KM, they were in a different class. Amongst my travelling companions were Dippy Dawn and Loopy Lorraine, and a couple of scary school bullies.
My first impression of Ape World was one of great disappointment. With its sticky carpets and forlorn displays, it gave the impression of a cross between a Wetherspoons pub and a once state-of-the-art, but long since abandoned, museum.
I wandered through three of the four main halls – ‘Human world’, ‘Nature world’, and ‘Animal world’ – completely unimpressed by the static models and the dull text that accompanied them. When I reached the entrance to the fourth, I hesitated at the sound of animal screeches and human screams. Were those real apes behind the dark panels? What were they doing to the unseen museum visitors? Was the main attraction to be chased by primates through dark corridors?
I was not prepared to find out. Instead I wandered upstairs to join my Canadian cousins NT and DT, and hunt down some lunch.
Dreamaticus 