As he sipped his glass of Madeira, the professor entertained us with the tale of his attempt some years ago to break the world record for staring at chickens.
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.
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...
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."
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