A heart attack hero and villain (Rousse)

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)

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)

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)

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)

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)

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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Dot.com heyday reunion party gatecrashed by secret lover (Rousse)

The huge Sun Microsystems Sunrise reunion was hosted in a massive chain hotel in a major US city. It was almost as if the heady days of the dot.com boom had never ended.

My boat was so late docking in port that by the time I reached the venue nearly everyone was already dressed in their DJs and ballgowns, all ready for the no-expense-spared evening of feasting, dancing, and other entertainment. I didn’t have much time to reach my hotel room and get changed. There was also the question of my missing dancing shoes (no replacements found in the antique shop).

After much time wasted trailing the many corridors of the hotel, I realised that I simply couldn’t remember my room number. I found TPR in the same predicament. Together, we found the hotel reception desk. Here we were directed to a rude receptionist bot that did everything it could to dismiss enquiries, even those of the disabled – in this case a cheerful disembodied head in a pushchair. When our time came, I made my responses to her questions so difficult to understand in my English accent, that human agents took over the bot interface. I eventually confirmed my identify by explaining the difficulty of plagiarising final year essays in the UK HE system when assessment strategies are well designed.

Towards the end of our interview with the human version of the receptionist bot, I was told that there was one final question. However, I had to answer it with my husband out of earshot.

‘Do you know Simon Moore?’, she asked.

Of course I did. Moore had been pursuing me for months! It was only then that I realised that he had also booked into the hotel and would be waiting to pounce on me at the first possible moment.

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Louis Theroux’s lover (Rousse)

I helped clear the ornaments from the table. Now that the last green china dog was hidden, nobody would ever suspect that Louis Theroux was having an affair.

I was not the object of Louis’ affections, sadly. Although he listened attentively when I poured my heart out to him, he was never going to fall in love with the likes of me.

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Mystery grapes found in death-trap car in Newcastle (Rousse)

Sandyford Road was almost empty of traffic, most likely due to the pandemic restrictions. This suited me as I drove to my new seconded post at the University of Northumbria. I’d easily make it to the office on time.

Then I took a wrong turn, tried to correct it, drifted back onto the main road into the face of oncoming traffic, and my brakes failed. The car eventually came to a halt in the gutter outside a row of terraced houses.

One of the brightly-coloured terrace doors opened and a man emerged to check the commotion. He was appalled at the state of the car and its contents. He pulled a bunch of solid clear glass (or plastic?) grapes out of the glove compartment. With a quick glance and a grin he declared ‘Aha, SEH!’ then disappeared back into his house once more.

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Face-to-face with the SEB (Rousse)

I maintained my composure when I came face-to-face with the SEB.  She was with a group of women all dressed up for a ball.

I wondered if the others knew her reputation. I guessed not (yet).

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