Dangerous diving in Denmark (Rousse)

A tiny Danish island was our holiday destination. Here the only other holiday-makers were Danes, all enjoying themselves splashing around in the water in long thin canoes.

‘We’ll do that later’, promised TPR, leading the way to a tiny hut almost completely choked by honeysuckle. We climbed on to the fence round the hut so that we could climb onto its roof.

TPR missed his footing and fell headfirst a hundred feet into the ravine below. Happily he was not injured. However, true to form, he lost his glasses.

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When an ex refuses to exit (Rousse)

It seemed a good idea at the time to invite my ex ST to visit while my husband TPR was away.

My plan fell apart when ST didn’t understand that he was expected to leave as soon as TPR returned home.

Now it was only a matter of time before they would come face to face with one another in a corridor – and TPR’s heart would shatter into a thousand pieces.

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Unwelcome gate-crasher knowledge extractor (Rousse)

DTJ set a large table in her garden then erected a tent-like structure around it. This allowed her to host a party under some form of shelter outside in winter. She then asked me to carry a sputtering candle from the house to the garden to use as a table decoration. Her daughter H followed me out, keeping an eye out for wax drips.

Eventually all our girlfriends arrived and gathered around the table, half-sheltered by the flapping tent. It was wonderful to see everyone together again.

Then I noticed a sinister man fiddling with a huge white contraption at the other end of the garden. When I challenged him, he admitted that he was a gate-crasher. His plan was to insert all the guests, one by one, into his machine. Then he would squash them until he had extracted their knowledge and expertise – all to use for his own personal gain.

(Meanwhile the SEB, having ditched KA’s husband SM for ‘being weird’, was chasing TPR again.)

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Sainsbury’s supermarket misdemeanour results in hefty fine (Rousse)

I was already way behind schedule for the arrival of our dinner guests (CM, VAE and possibly her sister), and now I found myself stuck in the Sainsbury’s checkout queue.

I considered all the raw ingredients for supper that were staring out at me from the trolley and wondered when I would ever get the meal to the table. The only way for me to make up some time was to prepare the fruit and vegetables here and now in the supermarket.

I reached for a knife and made a start on peeling the potatoes. Then I chopped the apples. This was going well!

However, I paid for my hasty food preparation antics when I reached the head of the queue. As punishment for opening the good prior to payment, the shop manager added a fine of 10% of the value of the contents of my trolley to my grocery bill.

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Librarians infiltrate 10 Downing Street (Rousse)

I thought that I was being interviewed for the post of Librarian at Loughborough University. In fact, it was for the role of second in command. I’d be taking over from a suited man who was returning to work at 10 Downing Street.

The members of the interview panel were not terribly interested in me, especially when a news story broke about ructions in the cabinet. They all rushed from the board room table to the nearest television screen. They stood before it transfixed for the rest of the afternoon, the interview forgotten.

I sloped off along a golden tree-lined avenue in the autumn sunshine to catch my train home again. They’d missed their chance of employing me. I wasn’t that bothered. I would have much rather taken the job at the University of Sheffield.

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Caribbean boat wreck survivor (Rousse)

I was one of the lucky one. When the wave overturned the open boat, I remembered the drill to kick of my boots, discard my hat, stuff my glasses into my pocket, and then swim until I found a float of some description.

Attached to a log, I eventually washed up on a Caribbean beach, much to the surprise of two women sunbathing in 1960s bikinis.

In the heat, I walked to the nearest resort village in search of a taxi driver who would take me home.

It was a great relief to have survived the wreck, but I worried about my friend JC and colleague GW. There was bound to some sort of enquiry since none of us had been wearing (nor were even offered) life jackets.

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Donald Trump the thief and Boris Johnston the fool (Rousse)

I was being courted by two world leaders.

First Donald Trump wanted to do business me. I agreed to an audience with him. He looked so much younger than he appeared in the media, and spoke kindly without his grating American accent.  I almost liked him – until he showed me the calculator that he had stolen from the last man that had he met, and I realised that this was not Donald Trump the president of the US, but his son.

Boris Johnson was also annoying, but more for being childish rather than criminal. When SM heard that the Prime Minister was in my kitchen he dropped everything to rush round and meet him.

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Middle-aged Swedish lesbian spoon art (Rousse)

My preparations for the World War II commemoration competition was going well. I had already produced a two page A4 document using a selection of inks in a rainbow of colours and my beautiful handwriting, I was confident that I had a good chance of a win.

To make this more of a certainty, I needed to accessorise the envelope for my entry. Where could I buy patriotic stickers or commemorative stamps?

When I entered the post office, I interrupted the two postmistresses mid-conversation in their native language. They were happy to sell me some stamps, but when it came to pay  I realised that I had no cash on me.

‘Not to worry’ said the older of the two middle-aged grey-haired lesbian Swedes. ‘I’ll just make a record that you will come back later with payment’.

To do so, she whipped out a wooden spoon, a jar of orangey syrup, and a fine brush. Then she painted an image of my face on the broad part of the spoon, complete with long sticky strands of syrup down the edges to depict my long hair. I promised to return as soon as I had found my purse.

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A sunblock bottle hoarder in dip-dye blue jeans (Rousse)

I challenged my sister J, who had always claimed that she was not a hoarder.

Why did she keep a collection of empty orange plastic sunblock bottles? There were at least 15 on her shelf, some of which dated from the 1980s.

Also, someone needed to tell her that my old dip-dye blue jeans did not flatter her figure.

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North Sea cello concert (Rousse)

At dawn on the last day of my holiday, I walked down to the shoreline of the cold grey North Sea. Already there were several brave souls in the water. Most were taking an early morning dip dressed only in skimpy swim suits. Others were rowing boats across the bay. I was not even brave enough to dip a toe in the water.

I returned to the hotel and met JG. He took me and TPR to the concert hall where our mutual friend RA was performing in his first ever cello concert. I hadn’t seen RA for years, but he had barely changed: he looked 60 even when when in his twenties. He was not happy when I made mention of this.

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