Countless years ago, when we first met, she told me that all days were defined by combinations of colours. She insisted that days of rest should always be blue and green.
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 ...
The Professor's family is famed for their alternative version of croquet. The game does include a ball and mallets (they're not fools and they own no flamingos) but it also requires a dialogue prior to each play in which the protagonists argue why the ball should be hit in any given direction. Indeed, there is no obvious need to hit the ball through any hoops since that is considered a distraction. The scoring system, moreover, is a thing of great beauty and emotional resonance, but is also completely incomprehensible to anyone other than Biskan Cannikeeper, Professor Emeritus of Mathematics and Loggats at Knave-Go-By University, who devised it. It is not clear if anyone has ever actually won a game. Although, this is not thought to be important. The Professor's Great Aunt Torrididdle was perhaps the finest exponent of this version of the game. She failed to win a single match but reduced any number of politicians, judges and other turncoats to states of silent bewilderment...
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.”
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