A ghostly PA (Rousse)

My new PA was my long-dead paternal grandmother.

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East Claremont Street camera thief (Rousse)

Moments after I dropped our camera on the pavement on the north side of Edinburgh’s East Claremont Street, a car travelling on the other side of the road skidded across the cobbles, crashed through the railings, and tipped into the area of the basement flat below.

I rushed down the steps to the aid of the driver (thankfully not dead as first feared) and TPR called an ambulance.

Meanwhile someone stole our camera from the street above.

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‘Friendly’ acid attack (Rousse)

Our supposed friend was no friend of mine.

He preened and pranced, kissing his favourites, including TPR.

When he reached me, he poured acid all over my knees ‘just for a laugh’.

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First frost at Niagara (Rousse)

Our visit to Canada coincided with the first frost of winter. Overnight the Niagara river froze, and the vegetation all around sparkled in the ice.

Most beautiful of all were the orchards lined with rows and rows of apple and pear trees. All the fruit transformed into sculptured, glassy ice baubles, hanging from the branches like Christmas tree decorations.

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A burgundy red bob and Big Ben (Rousse)

TPR made a huge effort with his appearance, first straightening and then dying, his grey hair into a glossy burgundy red bob. This was all in readiness for the arrival of a bunch of his former work colleagues at our flat.

They all piled into the study and sat on a mattress in front of a huge television. When I first saw the politicians on screen, I thought that TPR and his colleagues were watching a programme about politics. However, when they all started addressing one another directly, it was obvious that this was an important company conference call with the government in London.

A few days later I was in the English capital myself. I crossed the road beneath Big Ben on the way to a research council meeting beyond the Houses of Parliament. Since I had plenty of time (because I had no idea of the meeting venue), I stopped to admire the new floating art installations near Westminster Bridge that I knew from KJD’s online photography.

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A love affair with a pooch dyed pink (Rousse)

When we reached the dark and snowy outskirts of Edinburgh, the coach driver decided to turn back. Looking out of the window at lorries and cars strewn upside down at the side of the road, I understood his reasons.

This meant that we didn’t reach the pub for our rendez-vous with K&J. Instead the driver dropped us in a grand Georgian crescent in Balerno.

Here the residents were preparing for a garden party, carrying baskets of bread from their houses into the shared garden. A man wearing an Oxford college tie struck up a conversation with us, saying that he went to school in Bristol (but not the same one as TPR), then disappeared behind his garden gate. As he attempted to pull the gate shut behind him, a small dog escaped and leapt into my arms.

It was love at first sight. I had never seen a small woolly pooch dyed pink before, but this one was absolutely beautiful, and I could tell that he reciprocated my feelings.

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Natural amphitheatre hosts Champions League game in the Outer Hebrides (Rousse)

I was excited to be in the crowd at an important Champions League match in the Outer Hebrides.

The Liverpool team was about to come onto the pebbly pitch beneath the sea cave that served as a natural amphitheatre for all the top events in the islands.

The opposition’s goalie, dressed in his navy blue strip with a knee brace, took his place next to a big boulder just beneath me. I considered asking for his autograph, but decided against this. I was more interested in the older, hunkier players of the opposition.

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His mistress Henry (Rousse)

TPR’s new girlfriend was called Henry.

‘Typical’, I thought, ‘From this fact alone I know exactly her age and social class. I can also guess her undergraduate programme at the University of Edinburgh, and predict with some accuracy her Edinburgh New Town address’.

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Rousse favours Stuart Maconie over Mark Radcliffe

Stuart Maconie was in my gang. Mark Radcliffe was not – because he did not reply to my texts to their Saturday morning radio programme.

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A purple kitchen with an excess of kale (Rousse)

On the spur of the moment we called in on R and SL. SL was particularly delighted to see us, mistakenly thinking that our friend in tow (KA) was our niece AF.

While I admired their modern purple kitchen, SL complained that her greatest problem since retirement was dealing with an excess of kale.

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