Tag Archives: phone

A lost suitcase, an unknown phone number, and the scandal of banking hours in British provincial towns (Rousse)

Posted on July 29, 2012 by Dreamaticus

It was their mistake, but I should have thought of it earlier, especially since I was the one who would suffer as a result. By the time that I returned to the café H and K had already left. They … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged bag, banking, building societies, building society, cafe, clerk, Directory Enquiries, High Street, hours, KPMG, number, phone, soap, soap bag, South Queensferry, suitcase, telephone, Tuesday | Leave a comment

Failed funeral hair mission on the A286 (Rousse)

Posted on July 14, 2012 by Dreamaticus

When I first took the phone call I thought it was my mother speaking, but as the north east accent became stronger I began to have doubts. If she were to be believed, an aunt had died and the funeral … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged A286, accent, aunt, bald, bath, bathroom, Birdham, boss, break, broken, Bubbles, call, coiffure, death, die, died, estate, fail, failed, failure, funeral, glass, hair, hairdresser, mall, man, mission, mother, north east, ornament, phone, retail park, sales, security, shopping, skull, snap, stained, stylist, tandem, telephone, toupée, treatment, unctions, Volvo, Walwyn Close, wig | Leave a comment

New canoe-carrying Dr Who takes to the Tardis (Rousse)

Posted on June 15, 2012 by Dreamaticus

TPR signed up as Dr Who and appointed me as his assistant. To make the role his own, he took his canoe whenever he went. This meant that there was not enough space for me in the Tardis, so I … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged box, British Library, canoe, concrete, Corstorphine, Dr Who, flying, phone, tardis, taxonomies, telephone, TPR | Leave a comment

Birmingham University confessions, a career with moleskin trousers, and underwater cycle kayaking (Rousse)

Posted on June 6, 2012 by Dreamaticus

SB kicked off the Birmingham University French department reunion by suggesting that we read the “confessions” from last time. She actually meant the comments on the 2006 evaluation sheets, which she passed around the table. Personally I would have preferred … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged band, Birmingham University, Blackberry, blush, bouncers, call, canal, career, carousel, club, comments, confessions, cycling, cyclists, data, disco, evaluation, fairground, French, girl, green, handbag, handwriting, industrial panel, kayaking, Manor House, mobile, moleskin, moleskins, party, phone, racing, rucksack, sheets, TPR, trousers, tunnel, underwater, University of Birmingham | Leave a comment

Sales rep sings badly for his supper (Rousse)

Posted on June 5, 2012 by Dreamaticus

It was imperative that we raised more money. C and I sat at the table with a sales rep and discussed our strategy. Then C’s mobile rang. The name on the phone’s screen read “Michael Tait”. While C chatted to … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Michael Tait, money, phone, rep, representative, sales, strategy | Leave a comment

Rousse is in the dog house

Posted on May 13, 2012 by Dreamaticus

In the space of an afternoon both dogs were dead. The first – an ancient collie – died of old age. The second, however, was subject to a vicious attack by an Alsatian. In short, he was savaged to death. … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Alsatian, collie, death, dog, dogs, friend, Friends, phone, suicide | Leave a comment

Rousse misses an important appointment

Posted on March 15, 2012 by Dreamaticus

The woman sharing the pavement with me eventually lost her temper and ordered me to stop texting. I was making it impossible for her to get past me. Rather than meekly give in to her wishes, I decided to make … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged appointment, cab, Criaglockhart, Edinburgh, i-phone, immigrant, Jew, Jewish, linen, London Road, loons, path, pavement, phone, sheep, T shirt, taxi, temper, text, texting, trousers, Water of Leith, woman | Leave a comment

An unplanned journey to the Hebrides (Rousse)

Posted on March 13, 2012 by Dreamaticus

My father paid £19 each for all five of us to visit the castle and within minutes I had ruined everyone’s day. How was I to know that the bus was not a shuttle around the estate, but instead a … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged bathing costume, beach, beaches, bus, castle, coach, Dane, dressing gown, father, foreigners, Harris, Hebrides, house, houses, journey, Kyle of Lochalsh, Lewis, mobile, mother, phone, separation, shuttle, sister, sisters, swimming costume, swimsuit, tartan, tourist, tourists, towelling, worry | Leave a comment

Giving up gossip for Lent: Rousse debates the Archers rules

Posted on March 7, 2012 by Dreamaticus

TPR and I poured all our savings into a property purchase. Our new flat was on the first floor of a Georgian square in London that actually looked like it belonged in Edinburgh. Its size and layout very much resembled … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Alan Franks, Archers, bed, bedroom, bedrooms, beds, bedstead, bedsteads, bounce, bouncy, cobbles, conversation, Drummond Place, Easter, Edinburgh, flat, floor, floors, friend, Friends, Georgian, gossip, holiday, Lent, Lenten, London, noise, phone, pollution, property, purchase, quarters, room, rooms, rot, rotting, rust, rusting, servant, servants, sets, source, telephone, TPR, traffic, vicar, Victorian, vow | Leave a comment

Hostage taken at the White House: Rousse to the rescue

Posted on February 29, 2012 by Dreamaticus

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 →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged bed, bedroom, bike, caller, childhood, cycle, cycling, dark, dawn, doors, duvet, friend, gate, hostage, iPhone, lavender, phone, prisoner, rescue, Stockton, Stockton-on-Tees, study, trap, tree, White House | Leave a comment