My father’s joke that he and my mother were separating was in very bad taste given that TPR had just left me.
Perhaps he thought I had a chance of winning TPR back with the lumps of chocolate that I had left scattered about the house? When even JC resisted them, this seemed unlikely.
Then, after climbing the ladder to the upper floor, I found TPR lying in a makeshift bed next to my youngest sister. This dashed all my hopes for a reconciliation.
MS had obviously not considered the existing provision for PhD student training when he created his ‘new’ programme. He stuttered unconvincing excuses when I reminded him that we were only accredited for the programme that we delivered in 2020.
As I pulled open my desk drawer to extract the large sheet of flipchart paper that listed all the previous sessions inked out in green marker pen, he suggested that I take my ideas to DB and the others at the meeting across campus, starting now.
It took me 30 minutes to find the meeting room, by which time the others had left. I did, however, enjoy playing with a ball of bright orange Blu-Tack en route, and catching a glimpse of SC and TMcE in the café.
The core of the challenge was to cross the narrow chain bridge. This would have been achievable had the task not also required the construction of sections of the deck as you made your way across.
I simply did not have the strength to position the planks, and the moment that I glanced down and clocked the depth of the ravine, I was toast.
Dressing in the dark is never a good idea, especially not on the day that a photographer is booked to take your portrait for the university web site.
In the daylight I discovered that I was wearing a florescent lime green dress. I had also completely forgotten to put on any make-up.
I accompanied King Charles on his journey south by train from Balmoral. His carriages were very different from ours. Their worn wood panelling and tatty leather upholstery contrasted with the modern furnishings throughout the rest of the train.
When we reached Dumfries, however, the King was treated just like everyone else forced to suffer the replacement bus service.
Yet again, TPR had fallen in love – this time with a young fresher.
He could be more subtle in his dalliances. Why would anyone issue a dinner invitation to a prospective lover in the presence of his wife?
The object of his affection was rather confused by TPR’s approach to courtship.
JS led the public engagement workshop, and EH recommended a book that identified a suitable theoretical framework for the approach to be adopted.
When it was my turn present, I elected to argue the case for information literacy. I told my imaginary audience that information literacy is crucial to (a) individuals for their effective use of technology and (b) society to underpin democracy.
‘Did you say to Humpty Dumpty that it was OK to get off that wall?’, I asked TPR, accusingly.
I was the hero of the exhibition hall when I caught a toddler-on-the-loose by the arm and promptly returned her to her grateful parents.
We’d heard rumours of the wild animals that preyed on visitors as they left the venue. The first we encountered were the owls that swooped down if to attack, retreating at the very last moment. The golden monkey didn’t cause us any trouble, other than linger nearby as we headed towards the exit. The most frightening creature was a huge maned lion. It leapt down from a high bank to land right at our feet – thankfully in the form of a small purple cat. We managed to leave before two men armed with shotguns had a chance to aim their weapons at us.
We walked back along the country lane to the spot where we had parked the black Porsche. Along the way my companion confessed the extent of her love for TPR in the 1990s. I listened with compassion, pleased that all three of us now enjoyed a friendly relationship.
The happy atmosphere was shattered when we discovered that the car had been stolen. I couldn’t remember whether I had left the rucksack that held my laptop on the back ledge. If so, I was in deep trouble: none of the presentation files on the desktop were backed up.
I thought that I was doing quite well interviewing the two older graduates who had turned up for the reunion. The first was very obviously impressed that I was able to guess his degree and recognised him as a famous musician: I didn’t let on that I had crib notes.
However, my former colleague JK was not impressed with my performance. She shouted from across the hall ‘This would do for an honours project, but not for an event like this!’
If she really believed that she would be better at drawing the two men into conversation, I would be happy for her to take my role. I stepped off the stage and handed over the microphone.
Dreamaticus 