» Encounters with Royalty

Never curtsy in fishing waders
Many, many moons ago, my great aunt was fly-fishing in a patch of river up in the highlands of Scotland. The side of the river she was fishing on was owned by some local laird, and on the other side was Balmoral Castle. It was late August, and the Royals were all in residence - it was fairly normal to see the occasional pair of them out on horseback on the other side of the river, or a fleet of Land Rovers heading off up onto the moors for a shoot. According to the locals, the great rule was that unless they acknowledge your presence first, you ignored them entirely.

Great aunt was in a fairly deep patch of the river, and therefore in waders, happily fishing away. Suddenly on the other side of the river she sees - who else? - the Queen Mum, who was already the Queen Mum by this stage, walking along the river bank.

The Queen Mum gives my great aunt a nod, and so my great aunt, in her excitement at actually being acknowledged by a royal, curtsies.

In her fishing waders. In four and a half feet of water. Cue the waders rapidly filling with water, my great aunt shrieking from the cold, and the Queen Mother absolutely wetting herself with laughter. Family legend.
(Thu 3rd Aug 2006, 23:33, More)

» Childhood Ambitions

The Hungry Caterpillar Ballet
At the age of six, my lifetime ambition, like many other girls, was to be a prima ballerina.

This dream was brought to an abrupt and rather cruel end when the ballet school junior section put on The Hungry Caterpillar, as in the children's book with the caterpillar who eats numerous different types of food.

I was cast as the sausage.

Apparently I asked my mother at the end why all the other mummies were laughing at me.
(Tue 3rd Apr 2007, 13:03, More)

» When I met the parents

Bonfire Night
I was seventeen. I'd met this guy a few months back; and after a while we got together at a party; he was nice though a little sleazy, and I was quite excited because he was my first proper boyfriend. A few weeks down the line was my school's bonfire night: fireworks, bonfire, school guy making competition- you know the drill.

As he didn't go to my school, or in fact any school (gap year), I thought it would be nice if the b-f came along. Knew my parents were going to be there, but hoped we could avoid them- they're quite protective of me, especially my dad. But no, we run into them in the middle of the field where the bonfire's being held.

'Who's this?' barks my father, eyeing new b-f with disdain, clearly not taking to him at all.
'Oh, this is Marcus,' I say, terrified. 'My boyfriend.'
'How lovely,' my mother says sweetly.
'Pleasure to meet you,' says Marcus, very smarmily. My father turns slightly away, and says rather loudly,
'Well, I know what I'd like to see on the bonfire this evening.'

He didn't last long after that.
(Wed 25th May 2005, 19:56, More)

» When animals attack...

Over-exploratory squirrel
Last September I was inter-railing round Eastern Europe with a friend, and Warsaw was the first stop on the grand tour. It was our first full day there, and we were exploring the delights of the city: one of them was a beautiful park.

Trying to be artsy, I decided I was going to take pictures of the squirrels which were scampering merrily about everywhere. And they weren't grey squirrels, they were red squirrels, which was quite exciting- I'd never seen red squirrels outside captivity! One of them ran across the path and halted right in the middle of it, looking up at me. He or she can't have been more than five feet away.
I started fiddling with the zoom on my camera trying to get a good shot. The squirrel has scampered a little closer; great I think, it'll be a wonderful photo.

Next thing I know the little rat is running up my trousers (the outside thank god), and I start shrieking 'GET IT OFF! JESUS CHRIST GET IT OFF!' My friend promptly runs away, and all these Polish people look at me as if I'm absolutely mad.

Scared the life out of the squirrel though!
(Fri 3rd Jun 2005, 9:18, More)

» My Christmas Nightmare

Dogs
Our family has gone through a succession of terriers; all have eaten many things they're not supposed to. However, one Christmas, one of them really excelled herself.

My mum always puts little bowls of chocolates on the table for the end of Christmas lunch; she does this first thing in the morning, then does the rest of lunch. She comes in about an hour later to find the dog on the table having eaten most of the chocolates. Dog is reprimanded and sulks off to her basket.

Half an hour later, the dog is found again, this time in the pantry, eating the mince pies which were stupidly left on a low shelf. This can't be good; and from about ten minutes later, the dog is sick at regular half hour intervals for the rest of Christmas Day. I spent most of the afternoon clearing up the mess whilst my parents entertained the rellies. Nice!
(Fri 24th Dec 2004, 10:34, More)