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So I'm away for a week and all hell is let loose on two fronts.
I've had a stream of texts from Boston Kate, who is suffering what sounds like a much worse physical (and come to that, mental) illness than I've had. Interestingly, Kate and I have shared a workstation for the last few weeks but I think that's probably coincidence given her symptoms. Kate by her own admission has become delusional, and has started to imagine the class is falling into two camps, at war with each other. She places me firmly on her side of the barricades, although admits I am something of a "dark horse" to most people. I think this all stems from her getting a certain amount of stick from one or two people, and also from her being permanently stressed up to her eyeballs doing the course whilst trying to hold down 3 jobs to pay the fees. Anyway, Uncle Frank will have a word in due course, once I've sussed out exactly what has been going on in my absence. As Kate quite rightly points out, there are quite a few people who need to grow up a bit.
I've had a stream of texts from Boston Kate, who is suffering what sounds like a much worse physical (and come to that, mental) illness than I've had. Interestingly, Kate and I have shared a workstation for the last few weeks but I think that's probably coincidence given her symptoms. Kate by her own admission has become delusional, and has started to imagine the class is falling into two camps, at war with each other. She places me firmly on her side of the barricades, although admits I am something of a "dark horse" to most people. I think this all stems from her getting a certain amount of stick from one or two people, and also from her being permanently stressed up to her eyeballs doing the course whilst trying to hold down 3 jobs to pay the fees. Anyway, Uncle Frank will have a word in due course, once I've sussed out exactly what has been going on in my absence. As Kate quite rightly points out, there are quite a few people who need to grow up a bit.
Arriving back in in Edinburgh this evening, I went upstairs in search of Gill, my landlady, who is back in England briefly, because a large white van had appeared in the driveway where I normally park. I just wanted to know whether I could squeeze my car in, given I will be away narrow boating for a few days and didn't want to incur the wrath of the demon traffic wardens. We had a long chat about life, the universe, and doing up chateaux in France, which is Gill's role in life at the moment. Somehow Gill then got onto the subject of "Her!" (frowning and pointing downstairs furiously). I gathered she was talking about Click.
"I've never seen anything like it," she growled, "The state of that room! I emptied 10 buckets full of rubbish from the floor into a pile on her bed. I stuck 12 post it notes round the room. Some of the things I found you would not believe. I'm just not having it!"
I politely enquired whether it had been confirmed that the missing glassware had been in Click's room.
"All of it. Unwashed. Hidden in a drawer." I thought she was going to throw up at this point, such was her expression. "I've told Mrs Syrup to check her room regularly, and I've told her that if Her room needs cleaning again Mrs Stirrup will do it and I'll charge Her for it. I'm not having it. Rats and mice and everything. Disgusting."
Her finger swung round and pointed at me. I cowered. "And I'm not having Her up here. I know about thing with the keys. I know how often she forgets to take her own. If she comes up here she'll leave the front door wide open."
I assured Gill that I was a trustworthy keeper of the spare set of house keys in her absence and made to leave.
"Oh Frank, one other thing." I stood, transfixed. She smiled. "If you'd like to move the van round to the side road you can park your car in the yard." A clever move this I now know, as it turned out that the van, or pantechnicon in disguise as I now know it to be, needed to execute a clearance of the gate posts to such a fine margin that our old friend Werner Heisenberg would have been proud of me. Uncertainty Principle - you bet.
"I've never seen anything like it," she growled, "The state of that room! I emptied 10 buckets full of rubbish from the floor into a pile on her bed. I stuck 12 post it notes round the room. Some of the things I found you would not believe. I'm just not having it!"
I politely enquired whether it had been confirmed that the missing glassware had been in Click's room.
"All of it. Unwashed. Hidden in a drawer." I thought she was going to throw up at this point, such was her expression. "I've told Mrs Syrup to check her room regularly, and I've told her that if Her room needs cleaning again Mrs Stirrup will do it and I'll charge Her for it. I'm not having it. Rats and mice and everything. Disgusting."
Her finger swung round and pointed at me. I cowered. "And I'm not having Her up here. I know about thing with the keys. I know how often she forgets to take her own. If she comes up here she'll leave the front door wide open."
I assured Gill that I was a trustworthy keeper of the spare set of house keys in her absence and made to leave.
"Oh Frank, one other thing." I stood, transfixed. She smiled. "If you'd like to move the van round to the side road you can park your car in the yard." A clever move this I now know, as it turned out that the van, or pantechnicon in disguise as I now know it to be, needed to execute a clearance of the gate posts to such a fine margin that our old friend Werner Heisenberg would have been proud of me. Uncertainty Principle - you bet.
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