The Professor Peregrine Papers

ChopChop has an intensely irritating propensity for somewhat cryptic practical jokes and, as his sojourn in this version of reality dragged on, he began to indulge in this pastime. The first report I received was from The Ashby Puerorum Ghost Museum, where an unaccredited, seagull guide had been causing considerable disquiet and turmoil among the visitors and exhibits with his specious attempts to explain quantum theory and his unauthorised cocktail mixology. (Incidentally, I've always been a little disappointed by the gift shop here and can only award it 2 out of 5 stars).  By the time I arrived at the museum, ChopChop had disappeared, of course. Shortly thereafter I received a call from Lord Acnestis, owner of the Victorian country house Lickpenny Hall. It seems that, after summoning a number of guests in mysterious circumstances, ChopChop had arrived during dinner in the guise of Inspector Toucan and solemnly declared that there had been no murder or crime of any kind, that the ...

Not for the first time, our discussions have inadvertently led to the summoning of the Overlord of the Birds. Fortunately, these visitations do not last long but, in the meantime, we need to put up with him. However, let me put your mind at rest: he's always peaceful and respectful, despite having the changeable head of a bird, and he has a wealth of improbable anecdotes, a heartfelt love of cricket and an admirable distrust of politicians. Admittedly, he's also excessively fond of practical jokes, is slightly too obsessed with dancing and is prone to stealing food from your plate when you're not looking. Incidentally, ChopChop is a name that he refuses to acknowledge but, I think, secretly enjoys. ChopChop's appearances follow a broadly predictable course and began this time with him meeting up with old friends, including Max the cat. (The Professor has on occasion offered the opinion that the cat may be "pulling the strings". The occasion in question is usua...

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.”