Zoë the admin (Rousse)

My long-legged friend MH, who had recently taken to calling herself Zoë, announced to everyone that she had some news that would be of particular interest to me. She had successfully applied for the new admin role in my research group and would be my right hand person within the month.

I gave her a big congratulatory hug. However, I was rather concerned that (a) she was over-qualified for the job and (b) I would not have any suitable work to assign to her. On the other hand, she would enjoy meeting my handsome Canadian cousins, who were currently eating their way round town.

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A husband murdered over metal gates (Rousse)

TPR and I left the theatre after enjoying a play that starred Mathew Baynton (Thomas Thorne in Ghosts).

On our way back to the station, we took a short cut through a multistorey car park. To enter it just as it was closing was a huge mistake. Massive metal gates came down and trapped us in a large concrete construction that no phone signal could pentrate.

TPR wondered whether he could force open the metal gates. He gave it a go and managed to create a space just large enough to squeeze through and seek help. However, he never returned.

The next day a librarian approached me with a book of poetry in her hand. ‘Your husband is dead’, she said. A bunch of builders had murdered him because he destroyed their handiwork.

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Selecting ski clothes (Rousse)

I was in the most expensive, and snootiest, dress shop in town, selecting ski gloves and a scarf. The staff hovered over me, giving the impression that they thought I might leave without paying.

Afterwards I went to the gym to retrieve my ski jacket from my locker. It was such a long time since I had last used my locker that I had great difficulty remembering the code for the combination lock.

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Frail old lady on the wrong train (Rousse)

I’d mixed up the two rail tickets. I had that of mother, and she mine. The main consequence of this was that a frail old lady was about to board the ‘wrong’ train, and there was no way that I could stop her doing so.

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Flirting at work (Rousse)

A flirty red-haired engineer from Bolton helped me complete the missing student records for KS and RS.

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Exotic tank life at the beach (Rousse)

Just above the beach, my mother and I came across an enormous fish tank stuffed with turtles and goldfish.

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A new home in Howe Street, Edinburgh (Rousse)

We bought 55b Howe Street, Edinburgh. It was a top floor flat offering amazing views of the breakers and puffins on the beach (far better than North Berwick), and a route so short to Glenogle Baths that many of the neighbours popped there and back in their dressing gowns.

My parents visited on the first day that we had access to our new home. Both healthy and slim, they managed the complicated black painted iron-work access to the top floor. I struggled a bit with my bike. In the end I took the advice of a another cyclist and abandoned it in the vast hallway next to a pharmacy/post office counter. I also agreed to help the cyclist save tax on a parcel that she was posting by signing a receipt to say that it would be sent to Oxford.

Despite the purchase of our new pad in town, we held on to our old basement flat down the road. It would have been folly to abandon the garden after all the efforts of the past three years. I could also now take great pleasure joining in with my ‘old’ neighbours whenever they said ‘I have another place the city centre’.

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Awaiting an assassin (Rousse)

It was only a matter of time before the assassin would reach me. I’d already seen her rubbing paraffin into the hands of an innocent victim at a bus shelter.

For the time being, I had no option but to behave ‘normally’. I therefore continued my preparations for the wedding. I chose a black embroidered dress from Phase Eight over black trousers (for modesty).

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Tiny-footed Cinderella (Rousse)

Our student neighbour S called in to ask if we could lend her a pair of shoes.

‘What size?’ I asked.

’11’, she replied.

‘How could a fully-grown 18 year-old have such tiny feet?’ I wondered.

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Beetroot pee (Rousse)

Before I served the soup, I forgot to warn our lunchtime guests of the effects of beetroot consumption. They were probably now staring down lavatory bowls, convinced that they had contracted a deadly disease.

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