The Professor Peregrine Papers

On a recent road trip in his reliable, old Citroën Deux Chevaux, the Professor was keen to show me Meldrop Hall where, many long years ago, he remembered meeting the celebrated scholar and renowned tasseographist Lord Smither Conjubilant, Baron of ‘Somewhere Just Outside Hamnish Clifford’.  At that time the Professor was researching the role of pace-eggers in the development of both early forms of British tasseography and left-arm orthodox spin bowling. He began his tale thus: “I was welcomed at the door by a curious footman with undeserved deference and a cup of rapidly-cooling silver needle tea. After climbing the interminable stone staircase, I came across the Baron ensconced in a bartizan with a local artisan. As I recall he was busily arranging gewgaws on a rickety shelf.” Sadly, as we approached the hall in the Professor's vintage Bentley, it was clear that the house was now in ruins. We continued forward on foot through the abandoned gardens to the front of house where the P...

Among the Professor's collection of old cricket balls, mostly signed by obscure county cricketers, there is a single snooker ball. My curiosity was piqued and I questioned the Professor on its provenance.  “Ah yes, that was a parting gift from an old colleague of mine, Doctor Ulceby Cross. I paid him a visit just before he left for pastures new and he threw that very ball at me while calling out in that playful, bantering way of his, ‘Get lost, you pompous windbag.’  He had a reputation of being somewhat standoffish and irritable, but I knew him better than that. For instance, he frequently carried a snooker cue as he went about his daily business and is said to have used it to keep people at arm's, or rather, at cue's length. But, in fact, he was simply expecting to be challenged to a frame or two at short notice. Although, I confess that I can't recall that ever happening. I believe that his air of unfriendliness can be put down to his continual and profound contempla...

I came across a set of notes in the Professor's archives (stuffed into a shoe box, if you must know), which appeared indecipherable and made up largely of symbols. Stapled to these notes were a series of mysterious photographs. It is my duty to record here the Professor's attempt at elucidation. “I was invited to speak at a Symposium at Berck titled ‘Thyme on our Hands - Aspects of Herb Cultivation and the No-Communication Theorem in the Works of Antonin Artaud’. There was a great deal of lively and insightful discussion which, on the second day, somehow metamorphosed into a series of visionary experiments described as ‘Alternative Uses for a Bicycle in the Age of Entanglement’. I cannot imagine a more expressive tribute to the work of Louis de Broglie."  "However, attempts to achieve flight were abandoned following a near miss with a sand yacht and an incident involving delicious but unquestionably odoriferous cheese. Such happy times. At least, I think ‘happy’ is th...

One sunny, summer day many years ago, taking a slow train through suburban London to her house, these are the things that we enjoyed seeing from the train window. Scene 1 : A weightlifter in a garden proving to be a source of fascination for birds Scene 2 : A woman in a quiet street pushing a large wheelbarrow full of flowers, in a floriferous manner Scene 3 : A colourful statue of a cow Scene 4 : A vision from the 1930s with pots and pans suspended above a joyful husband and wife   Scene 5 : In a garden, two men dressed in Victorian clothes staring at something that they consider intractable As dusk began to fall and we neared our destination, she whispered to me, “Love is the man in quiet shoes walking close behind you as you make your way home.”

I had heard many rumours concerning the Professor's great uncle, the widely-respected ecclesiastical scholar, the Reverend Prebendary-without-Portfolio, Glanton Pyke. While briefly trapped in a defective lift between floors at The National Pith Helmet Museum, the Professor eventually confided the vexatious story to me.  “Following his recovery from a sudden crisis of faith, Glanton began to invest an increasing amount of his time in researching the role of the lithophone in the development of modern liturgical music. He was determined to see this project through to its conclusion, in spite of warnings from colleagues and a passing onion seller that he was neglecting his long-held ambition to be appointed to the office of Suffragan. After some years, he triumphantly presented his conclusions in the legendary lecture hall at The Monkton Up Wimborne Seminary and Butterfly Observatory. It's said that on that day many tears of joy were shed, many lives were changed and Nottinghamshi...

This year I accompanied the Professor on his annual visit to Grammersow Hall, the crepuscular stately home in Moreton on Lugg. Following a bracing constitutional around the grounds, I came across the Professor deep in thought at the entrance to the Ice House. After some minutes had passed, he spoke:  "I come to this place on every Saint Jude The Uncertain day. It was here that I last set eyes upon my great friend Admiral Quilkin  * . He marched into the Ice House, giving me a cheery wave as he disappeared. But he did not return. Some say he's playing glockenspiel in a reggae band on the outskirts of Tromsø. But I recently received an anonymous letter claiming that he'd been spotted buying blotting paper and safety pins in a shop just outside Wrangle Lowgate. That does sound the more likely option." "But Professor," I felt compelled to ask. "If he failed to return, then could he still be in there somewhere?" The Professor's expression became ind...