Tag Archives: duvet

Drugs and Richard Dunbar (Rousse)

A small red-headed man walked into my bed and breakfast room and pushed aside all the work that I had laid out on the desk. Who was he? How dare he? Thank goodness I had already ditched the drugs sewn … Continue reading

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Sleeping in the office (Rousse)

I was reasonably comfortable cocooned in my high-tog duvet in the photocopying room. Sleeping in the office was not such a hardship, and it did make my working life a lot more efficient. Provided that I could keep my sleeping … Continue reading

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Butler dinner guest seeks opinion of Michel Barnier (Rousse)

My parents’ house was so vast that it was hard to keep track of all the family members and visitors staying there. One morning I was appalled to find a tramp asleep under a brand new duvet in one of … Continue reading

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How the other half (barely) lives (Rousse)

When I was supposed to be at work I poked around my sister J’s vastly extended house in West Sussex. On the ground floor there was a luxurious self-contained holiday cottage that looked out onto a large rectangular pond destined … Continue reading

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Supermarket shelf stealer looks forward to a weekend away at the Balcary Bay Hotel (Rousse)

Since we ran out of storage space in our house, I had taken to secretly commandeering some shelves in Tesco. There I left a dozen Moomin mugs in a raffia basket, and several spare duvets in John Lewis boxes. On … Continue reading

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The chance of a year in France and Marmite tinfoil in a Little Chef (Rousse)

I sat through the sandy-haired lecturer’s explanation of how to apply for a year abroad in France then took the ‘handout’ at the end. This took the form of three tiny orange cards, rather like rail tickets. There was little … Continue reading

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Snow and stovies on election day (Rousse)

When we tried to go outside we found a metre of snow banked up against the back door. I asked TPR not to touch it while I made a dash for my camera. He disobeyed me, and immediately got started … Continue reading

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Friday night in the caravan (Rousse)

This was the most depressing of Friday nights. We were packed into a static caravan the size of a railway carriage, not far from Quartermile. I’d been here before when it had been used as emergency accommodation for undergraduates at … Continue reading

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Gothic goings on (Belle)

It was past midnight and I had no idea why the dog and I had been socialising in this part of town. Walking up Ludgate Hill we were suddenly plunged into complete darkness and I had to feel my way … Continue reading

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Hostage taken at the White House: Rousse to the rescue

I could hear my iPhone ringing out, but where was I, and what time of night was this? I pulled myself up in bed to peer into the dark. I was back at the White House in my childhood bedroom. … Continue reading

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