The Professor Peregrine Papers

My dear (indeed, unreasonably expensive) friend Professor Peregrine has for many years been on the very best of terms with Pugil Jabbernowl, Professor Emeritus of Implausible Geography and Dwile Flonking at Stratton Strawless University. Professor Jabbernowl is probably best known in academic circles for his work “The Preston Gubbals Woodland Debate of 1902”. This exhaustive study of the momentous event, covering its causes, outcomes and catering solutions, remains a great classic amongst “those in the know.” Indeed, amid much celebration and egregious wasting of cash, an attempt was made to turn the book into a feature film entitled “Woodland Showdown”. It was never finished, of course. Professor Jabbernowl considers this a suitable metaphor. But, in recent weeks, relations have soured between these two paragons of British Academia. At first, my attempts to determine the reasons behind this falling out came to nought. But, after I concealed his television remote control during the hig

I came across Professor Peregrine descaling a kettle. As is his wont when undertaking such dangerous tasks, he was wearing his faithful, timeworn wicket-keeper's gloves. Amid much imprudent splashing of liquid and fracturing of kitchen items, this activity brought on one of the Professor's legendary nostalgic moods. “Do you remember Binky Theddlethorpe?” he asked, with a faraway look in his eye. I didn't. “And do you remember that fine match in which he took eight wickets while also eating his way through at least the same number of ham and piccalilli sandwiches?” I didn't. “In that case," the Professor went on. “Neither do I. Pass me the abrasive fish slice, if you'd be so kind.” Following a subsequent, exhaustive search in the archives of The Thorpe Malsor Cricket Club and 24 Hour Laundry, I can confirm that the illustrious Binky Theddlethorpe was reputed to be “unplayable” while bowling within the confines of a neolithic landscape.

It is indeed rare for the Professor to become reticent on any subject of academic interest, but he has asked me to make it clear to all interested parties that, following his lecture series given at Lanspresado College in Stretton Grandison, he has nothing more to add concerning the Banbury Egg Incident. He has asked me to stress that there is no point in offering very substantial cash fees in plain, manilla envelopes (sterling or euros), or cases of the finest Armagnac (aged for at least 20 years) or even Test Match tickets (preferably at Lords) to make him change his mind.  Although, being a man of honour, he is willing to listen to such foolish offers purely in a spirit of politeness.

In the course of an evening stroll to the newsagents to purchase the latest edition of “The Square Leg Fielder's Quarterly”, the Professor began reminiscing about some of his former colleagues. “Professors Brabagious, Ricksteddle and Catterning spent many years travelling the less populated parts of Devon and Dorset in an attempt to complete their work on the tea and water biscuit ceremony reputed to take place annually in those parts on St. Benedict's Day. Everywhere they went, they were greeted by cheering crowds but, sadly, failed to find any trace of the fabled ceremony.”  The Three Professors and Mrs Ethel Slump The Professor paused and stared wistfully at a skein of geese crossing the sky, before continuing in a sad and leaden tone. “Rumour has it that they were often accompanied by a ghost called Mrs Ethel Slump, but I've no time for such tomfoolery. They were last seen setting out to sea on a makeshift raft somewhere near Budleigh Salterton. ”

Recently, as we perused, with much admiration, Ezra Gloppened's recent publication "Goo! : Butter Churns and their Role in the Peasants' Revolt", I ventured to ask if the Professor had ever considered an alternative career.   "I haven't always been attracted to the academic life," the Professor admitted. "Many years ago, I did spend some time on the road with my band The Inadequate Zarf. Ah, happy days! Except for the less happy days, which, come to think of it, was most of them." I was unsure about the veracity of this statement until I chanced upon a copy of The Inadequate Zarf’s classic album "Physalis In My Pocket" in a bric-a-brac sale at the Sandford Spence Schultz Home for Fractious Umpires. My favourite track is, without doubt, "Ruckus In The Olfaction Department", featuring the Professor's solo on bass harmonica, an instrument of which he has little or no knowledge.

I found these postcards in a manila envelope on which was written “Deep Extra Cover” and “lost tuning fork”. The Professor has no recollection of these postcards.  But, then again, neither do I.