The Professor Peregrine Papers

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...

The following Thursday, while the members of the academy were busy discussing dictionaries, Daniel Brereton experienced a powerful sense of familiarity as he walked through the fire garden.  Low-flying birds watched him with suspicion.

For nebulous reasons, the Professor has been investigating the strange disappearance in 1922 of Puthery Quiddle, then Reader in Paradoxical Physics and Hat Manipulation at West Flotmanby Academy. Shortly after the publication of his infamous paper “Unexplained Disappearances and their Relation to Airships and Tethered Balloons” (Swinithwaite Press, 1921), Quiddle himself inexplicably vanished. Recently, following a particularly lengthy lunch, the Professor indicated that I should follow him into his crumbling garden shed. After locking the door behind us and checking for listening devices with what appeared to be a divining rod, he whispered to me in hushed and questionably portentous tones: “It cannot be a coincidence that Quiddle was seen in earnest discussion with Hanson "Sammy" Carter in a public house close to the Oval during the tour of the Australian Test Team in 1921. It is my belief that Quiddle was spirited away amongst the large collection of kit bags that our Sout...

As we wandered behind the happy throng beating the bounds around Priest Weston, I was momentarily puzzled by the Professor's choice of clothing for this festive occasion. I was wearing my ceremonial blazer embroidered with the colours of sunset over Dungeness Beach while the Professor sported bright green cricket pads and a matching top hat.  When I tentatively questioned his appearance, his answer filled me with shame. “You seem to have forgotten that today is William Beldham Day, my boy. I am wearing the appropriate costume, I think you'll find.” Of course, he was entirely correct. My thoughts turned at once to the exemplary ‘Silver Billy’ Beldham and I resolved to recommence work on my unfinished musical “Gentlemen versus Players and a Twelfth Man” at the earliest opportunity.  At the end of the ceremony we gathered at Mitchell's Fold Stone Circle for the customary reading of the epic poem “The Rather Confused Horseman of Black Marsh”, intoned majestically this year by t...

I had that dream again last night. The one in which we were excluded from the fortress. She warned me at the time that it would continue to haunt me. Years later, I found a note inside a book that she left behind. It read: "There's milestones on the Dover Road."