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The Annual Tree Glorification Festival

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Professor Peregrine has made an extensive and lengthy study of English folklore, traditions and puddings which culminated in his recent monograph entitled “What the Hocktide Is This All About Then?” (Vilipend Press, 2024). In order to learn more, I accompanied the Professor to the Annual Tree Glorification Festival in Gully-on-the-Mooch. The day began with the time-honoured breakfast of trampled potato and ambiguous berry jam before groups of villagers meandered into the nearby woods making vague, complimentary comments about the trees. Every now and then the traditional cry of “This bark is adequate for the most part” was heard, drifting through the woodland. After an hour or so of tedious but symbolic strolling about, the critical moment arrived. The villager known as the “Pompous Japer” stepped forward, resplendent in his purple top hat, and declared a particular tree to be the chosen one. The Japer then insulted the tree unconvincingly for 5 minutes or so before finishing with ...
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Uncle Leucocholy's Cacti Enigma

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Following the prickly pear incident, Uncle Leucocholy insisted on dressing as a deep sea diver whenever close to cacti. When asked about this behaviour he would always reply, “L’objet d’art, par définition, est le crocodile empaillé”.  It is interesting to note: Uncle Leucocholy did not speak French. Uncle Leucocholy could not swim. Uncle Leucocholy once wore a pair of faux crocodile shoes to a performance of Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition”.
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Not Propitious Weather

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Despite his instinctively optimistic view on meteorology and his strong desire to witness a full day's play at the Cocklawburn Beach Cricket Club and Campanology Academy, the Professor was forced to admit that the weather conditions did not look propitious.
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Location: Cocklawburn Beach
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The Derny Bike & 'Pataphysical Modes

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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....
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Location: Tytherton Lucas
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A Panegyric for Mr B and Perfect Days

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 I turned to say something. Richard found a place to sleep where it is quiet, and sleeps there.
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The Singing Rabbit of Haytor Rocks

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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 ...
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Location: Haytor Rocks
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The Plough Monday Bucket Ceremony

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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. 
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Location: Eccles-on-Sea
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