The Professor Peregrine Papers

For many years the Professor has enjoyed the pastime of riding the derny bike in order to pace struggling amateur cyclists in pursuit of their keirin racing dreams. Lately, however, he has expanded this hobby into new areas in an attempt, as he puts it, to “uncover profound consequences and increase the chances of being offered girdle scones”.  On a recent visit to The Tytherton Lucas University and Sandpaper Repository, I was greatly cheered to witness the Professor heading across a somewhat neglected meadow pursued by Professors Nippitatum and Spong as they debated an obscure aspect of the ‘pataphysics of 'pataphysical modes.  I cannot recall witnessing a more heartwarming and inspiring sight in recent times.  Well, possibly apart from Mr Norman ‘Nongermane’ Griffonage playing his celebrated forward defensive stroke for several, uneventful hours on the cricket green at Muchlarnick on a fine summer day and thus allowing the visiting team an entirely inconsequential draw....

 I turned to say something. Richard found a place to sleep where it is quiet, and sleeps there.

Recently the Professor gave the Lumpy Stevens Memorial Lecture during which he strove to call into question a number of well-known paranormal phenomena. These included the legend of The Singing Rabbit of Haytor Rocks, which the Professor insisted was due to a trick of the light combined with a foolhardy overuse of metaphors. Shortly after, however, the Professor received a letter from The Moderately Reverend Moreton Valence containing indisputably spurious photographic evidence to the contrary. To underline the strength of his conviction on this matter, Valence went on to argue for the introduction of compulsory juggling at all church services and declare himself to be the reincarnation of King Beornred of Mercia.  This missive greatly moved the Professor and, staring into his rapidly cooling cup of fourth flush Darjeeling, he admitted to the first glimmerings of doubt. Leaning towards me conspiratorially, he whispered: “I must consider this in greater depth by visiting the Temple ...

Earlier this year the Professor and his closest academic colleagues celebrated Plough Monday in their traditional manner with fine displays of old metal buckets in several unexpected places. Happily, I did succeed in finding one of these secret locations. After admiring the aged containers, I took away one of the cards scattered in the vicinity and meditated on its meaning as I played a mixtape of Bernart de Ventadorn's greatest hits.  The following morning I awoke, as so often in the past, to what sounded like a robin singing Verdi while perched on a can of soup. 

The sea was calm. The light gleamed and was gone. So beautiful. "If you even mention Sophocles, it'll be a melancholy, long night for you on this darkling plain," she said. We went for fish and chips instead. 

It has been drawn to my attention that I could actually “do something useful” rather than accumulate arcane jottings on the life and times of Professor Peregrine. In my defence, I offer a small indication of the onerous nature of this honourable task in the shape of a week's entries from my diary.  Monday The Professor showed me a draft of his long-awaited article on string theory. Disappointingly, it seemed to dwell overmuch on the (theoretically) best containers in which to save string.  Tuesday The Professor was jubilant as he announced that he has added the 12-inch record of "The Umpire's Lament" to his collection of rare vinyl from the 1980s. The use of analogue synthesisers is, he claims, unparalleled in the field of leg-spin bowling.  Wednesday Nothing much happened that I can recall, although I did take the cat for a walk. I do not have a cat. The Professor is not answering his phone. Thurs day The Professor left a postcard in my letterbox under the cover of d...