Monkey in a motorhome (Rousse)

Posted on August 11, 2022 by Dreamaticus

With my sister at the wheel of our motorhome, we were driving south through France to the drop off my niece A and her partner D at a ski resort. It was a wonder that we weren’t killed en route. My sister insisted on driving on the left hand side of the road, forcing the oncoming vehicles to cross the carriageway to avoid colliding with us.

Unfortunately the tiny 4-inch high monkey (seated with us on the back seat) didn’t survive the journey. Somehow it got trapped under one of the other passengers. The first sign of its distress was bleeding from the eyes. Soon afterwards its entire body disintegrated into a bloody blob.

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John Peel, the Cure, and the B-52s (Rousse)

Posted on August 11, 2022 by Dreamaticus

John Peel and I discussed interesting beats in pop songs. I moved the conversation on to two of my favourites: A forest by The Cure, and Planet Claire by the B-52s.

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The pretend polyglot (Belle)

Posted on August 8, 2022 by Dreamaticus

I met a man at a party who claimed he spoke ‘many languages’. When I asked for an example, he said “Modern Hieroglyphics”.

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Hotel cutlery ‘extras’ (Rousse)

Posted on August 7, 2022 by Dreamaticus

‘Are you insured?’ asked the hotel manager.

TPR looked up from his plate of parma ham and Hollandaise sauce. Why did she need to know this?

‘It’s just that we noticed on the CCTV from last night’s dinner service that you use your knife and fork with a great deal of force. This probably explains that damage to our crockery over the duration of your stay with us.’

It sounded like an ‘extra’ was about to be added to our hotel bill.

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Hotel house Womble greets guests (Rousse)

Posted on August 7, 2022 by Dreamaticus

As the two-foot tall house Womble wandered the hotel corridors, he hailed every guest with a handshake and the cheery greeting: ‘Remember you’re a Womble!’

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Mother and daughter Cosmopolitan cover girls (Rousse)

Posted on August 5, 2022 by Dreamaticus

Hidden in the pile of ancient copies of Cosmopolitan were three issues of particular interest. My mother – aged about 35 – featured as the magazine’s cover girl on two of them, and my sister S on the third. They both looked fabulous, but I had some questions:

  1. How had this come about?
  2. Why had I never known about this?
  3. What kind of magic went into the makeovers to transform my nearest and dearest into beauty queens?

My third question was answered by a photographer: clever lighting and camera angles.

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SWAT team descends on market in terrorist hunt (Rousse)

Posted on August 1, 2022 by Dreamaticus

I could easily take the safe route home past the university, alongside the privileged students. So why did I periodically abandon all caution to walk through the rough market, squeezing my way along the narrow streets in a crush of the poor and marginalised?

Not so that I could be gunned down by a SWAT team hunting down terrorists, as turned out to be the case on this occasion.

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A swing, a helicopter, and a sauna (Rousse)

Posted on July 31, 2022 by Dreamaticus

Even I was doubting the sense of my latest charity shop purchase: a plastic orange children’s swing set, just about the right size for a Barbie doll. The others at AH-S and CH-S’s vast house looked at me with pity when I showed it to them. CH-S offered a way out of the conversation by suggesting that we explore the garden.

First we walked past a large, yellow AA branded building with a helicopter parked outside. ‘We keep this on stand-by in case I get lost’ explained CH-S.

Then, as we walked to the main accommodation building, I noticed smoke coming up through the lawn. ‘Don’t worry’ said our hostess, ‘That’s just our underground sauna’.

Afterwards I looked after EH’s baby while she attended a work meeting in room C44 on campus.

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Drugs and Richard Dunbar (Rousse)

Posted on July 30, 2022 by Dreamaticus

A small red-headed man walked into my bed and breakfast room and pushed aside all the work that I had laid out on the desk. Who was he? How dare he? Thank goodness I had already ditched the drugs sewn into the seam of the duvet cover.

On the breast of his white, neatly-pressed, short-sleeved shirt, I noticed that the man was sporting a small metal badge that displayed the name Richard.

‘Are you Richard Dunbar?’ I asked.

‘No’, he answered ‘But I do enjoy hearing his financial reports on Radio 4 Today.’

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David Bowie imposter financial scam (Rousse)

Posted on July 27, 2022 by Dreamaticus

I couldn’t believe my luck when David Bowie befriended me on holiday. We sat at a picnic table in the sunshine to leaf through his sketchbook while discussing his musical influences. He was so caring that he even arranged for the secure storage of my bank and credit cards with his fortune in the personal safe in his hotel suite.

On my last day, I knew that I would miss my booked train at 12:30 if I lingered too long in Bowie’s company. However, I wanted to enjoy every possible last minute with my famous companion, so I rang TPR to tell him that I would return home later. In any case, I needed to retrieve my cards from the safe.

When I asked Bowie’s PA to fetch my belongings, he laughed in my face. My cards had been sold onto criminals who, in all probability, had already emptied every account.

How had I not realised that my ‘Bowie’ was a fake? How had I forgotten that David Bowie died in January 2016? How would I get home?

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