Jim-jam dinner (Rousse)

Posted on January 14, 2022 by Dreamaticus

When I heard that LE and GE were joining us for dinner in a restaurant with JC and GC, I panicked – because I was still in my red fleece pyjamas.

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A career start in Sunderland (Rousse)

Posted on January 14, 2022 by Dreamaticus

The prize job for top Oxford graduate HH was in artificial intelligence in Sunderland.

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Secret service research promotion from Gill to Judith (Rousse)

Posted on January 11, 2022 by Dreamaticus

I was very proud of the achievements of my colleague EH, just awarded a year-long research secondment with the Secret Service. However, I was also somewhat annoyed that an official was calling her ‘Judith’.

When I later raised this with EH herself she told me not to worry. There are official labels for women at different research career stages. The official was simply acknowledging EH’s step up from a “Gill’.

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Learning to crochet on Portobello beach (Rousse)

Posted on January 10, 2022 by Dreamaticus

I learnt to crochet on Portobello beach, instructed by my online friend BC and her daughters.

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A heart attack hero and villain (Rousse)

Posted on January 8, 2022 by Dreamaticus

A distressed bird flew into the sitting room. TPR grumpily forced the window open to allow it to escape. Unfortunately he suffered a heart attack due to the effort, and complained incessantly afterwards. Sometimes I wondered whether my husband liked me at all.

A distressed bird flew into the sitting room. My colleague happily forced the window open to allow it to escape. Unfortunately he suffered a heart attack due to the effort, but he declared that he would do anyway for me, regardless of the health risk. He admitted to missing me terribly in the period that we were forced to work from home under coronavirus pandemic restrictions. Sometimes I wondered whether I should leave my husband and move in with this lovely man.

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Cocaine and cheese on self-driving buses in Nantes (Rousse)

Posted on January 8, 2022 by Dreamaticus

I was back in Nantes. This city had changed in the four decades since I left.

Here the buses were self-driving, and you paid your fare in lumps of cheese or cocaine. Some passengers, including myself, found it difficult to distinguish between these two substances.

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Sunbathing in Kendal (Rousse)

Posted on January 1, 2022 by Dreamaticus

Over five decades after we left Kendal, we were moving back to Fowl Ing Lane.

I was delighted at the aspect and size of the garden at number 37. No matter the time of year or day, there would always be a spot for sunbathing.

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A Playmobil partner in Sausalito (Belle)

Posted on December 29, 2021 by Dreamaticus

Now naked from the waist up, I awkwardly looked around my date’s kitchen and said hello to his sister. I’d certainly met some interesting people since moving to San Francisco. My date, meanwhile, was taking two bicycles out of a kitchen cupboard, preparing them for our trip to Sausalito.

“I’ve not ridden a bike in decades”, I told him, carefully not mentioning exactly how many decades. He glossed over this, instead pressing two Playmobil figures into my hands. They looked exactly like the two of us – and my figure was shirtless.

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Richard Osman’s understudy (Rousse)

Posted on December 27, 2021 by Dreamaticus

Richard Osman leapt down to the stage from his spot at the side of the stalls to join in the grande finale of the sketch show. This left nobody in charge of lighting, so TPR stepped in while Osman frolicked with the likes of David Baddiel.

TPR’s technical skills did not extend to this type of work. His fiddling with the spotlight delayed the show for so long that the press photographer snapped TPR’s ‘performance’ for The Stage.

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Butter rent and Alice the drunk in medieval France (Rousse)

Posted on December 26, 2021 by Dreamaticus

I arrived in medieval France very late for the third year of my degree programme.  All of my fellow students had arrived on time and already found cheap accommodation. I pitied them, sleeping sardine-fashion along the gutters of the village square.

I knew that it would cost a fortune, but I would be looking for an apartment for the duration of my stay. I told SPC that I would pay my rent in butter. She wished me luck with that plan, suspecting that such currency would be easily stolen. (She was right.)

SPC also warned me of the dangers of drink in France during this period of history. A fellow student named Alice had died after consuming a bottle of vodka every day for three months.

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