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Dr Yeti removed his hairy goatskin jacket and wrapped it tenderly around Miss Adam’s shoulders. Then he began to tell his story.


“I applied for a job at the San. I had been a practicing doctor for 10 years, but I had never found time to marry. The job at the San came with a wife.”


 “Yes, I applied to the Chalet School for the same reason,” said Miss Adams.


Dr Yeti smiled and then continued, “As soon as I arrived I knew I had made a mistake, I just wasn’t patronising enough. Some of the Doctors were a little too patronising, but I wasn’t patronising enough. They asked me what I felt about wives working, and I said if she wanted to I was happy for her to do so.   I was fine with her wearing makeup too. I didn’t want a whip thin wife who was obsessed with having babies.”


Miss Adams smiled, the brief conversation she had had with Joey Maynard at the wedding had been decidedly baby focused.


“After a while,” continued the Yeti, “I asked if I could drop out of the wife interviews and simply work as a doctor. It was as if I had suggested euthanasia for TB patients. They chased me out of the San. It was horrific, all these doctors, armed with bedpans.” The Yeti Doctor gave a shiver, Miss Adams patted him on the hand. “I ran, I found this cave and hid in it, I was forced to forage for food, I use the skins of the mountain goats as clothes.” Miss Adams’ eyes filled with sympathetic tears. She took the Yeti Doctors hand in hers. They smiled at each other. Despite trials and tribulations Miss Adams had really just bagged herself a Doctor. Together they made plans to escape and marry. They lived happily ever after (although Dr. Yeti was never quite comfortable with people carrying bedpans).


Miss Seymour stood in her check in line at the airport still fuming. What a place that was! She had been taken in at first, but she realised now that no Doctor was worth spending three years pretending to be interested in Joey Maynard and her boring tales about the early years of the Chalet School. Finally Miss Seymour reached the front of the queue and handed over her ticket.


“Oh,” said the young lady at the desk, “I am afraid this is the wrong queue for your destination, you need that one over there.” Miss Seymour looked and saw a shorter queue, headed by a good looking young man, with a rather nice nose. Picking up her case Miss Seymour changed queues. Apart from the good looking young man, everyone else in the queue looked very dour, with some hideous clothes. Miss Seymour checked in and climbed aboard the plane, failing to notice the hammer and sickle flag painted on the tail. To her delight she was sat next to the handsome young man. They spent the first few hours of the journey in animated conversation, Miss Seymour was delighted to discover that the charming young man was a doctor.


 “I say,” said Dr Buon looking out of the window, “It looks like there has been a lot of snow in England.”


“That is odd, considering it is the middle of July,” replied Miss Seymour. The plane landed. Miss Seymour and Dr Buon descended into a barren, alien looking landscape, the signs were not in English, but in a different form of script entirely. Reaching out Miss Seymour nervously clasped Dr Buons hand. A man in a military uniform approached. He smiled at them, but not in a nice way.


“Miss Nicolle Seymour? Dr Dominic Buon?” he asked in precise, but accented English.


“Yes” replied Dr Buon worriedly. “You are under arrest for crimes against the USSR. You are both to be sent to a gulag in Siberia for the next 40 years.” He clicked his fingers and half a dozen brawny Russian soldiers appeared as if from nowhere. Miss Seymour and Dr Buon were seized and bundled into an army truck.


“Don’t worry Miss Seymour!” cried Dr Buon, “ I will protect you!” Which he did for the next 40 years, and Miss Seymour (later Mrs Doctor Buon) was happy with her doctor, despite the ruination of his nose which happened when a particularly sadistic guard punched him on the way to the gulag


Miss Nelson sat and waited for the result of her interview. She wondered what was keeping Miss Seymour so long. The door opened and Rosalie walked in.


 “Miss Nelson, if you would like to follow me.” Miss Nelson rose and followed Rosalie out of the room. They headed down the corridor to Miss Annersley’s office. Rosalie knocked at the door. Miss Annersley called for them to enter.


“Hello Miss Nelson, do sit down,” said Nell.


“Well done!” said Miss Annersley, “You have successfully passed all the tests in order to qualify for our ‘Bagging a Doctor’ scheme.”


 “We were particularly impressed by your ability to eat éclairs,” added Miss Wilson. “In three years time we are sure we will have found you a doctor and will be seeing you safely married to him.”


 “Excellent! Thank you,” said Miss Nelson happily.


The three years passed quickly, Miss Nelson proved herself to be popular with the girls, although she was also a stern disciplinarian and she quickly gained the respect of the other Mistresses. One day, when leading an expedition up a mountain Miss Nelson and the girls found themselves trapped in a small mountain hut, whist an angry storm raged above them. Miss Nelson had unfortunately wrenched her ankle in the dash to the hut. However on reaching the hut they discovered it was already occupied, by one Dr Matthew Roberts. He bandaged up Miss Nelsons foot, calmed the fears of the girls, and the next day set off to alert their rescue party. He was tall, dark and handsome. Dr Matt was very taken with the pretty Miss Nelson and six months later they married, and nine months after that Miss Nelson produced her first of several sets of twins. Another success for the Chalet School! The end

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