Dreaming of the Fortress Again

-

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.

Dover Road

Years later, I found a note inside a book that she left behind.

It read: "There's milestones on the Dover Road."

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Week Torn From My Diary

-
Image
It has been drawn to my attention that I could actually “do something useful” rather than accumulate arcane jottings on the life and times of Professor Peregrine. In my defence, I offer a small indication of the onerous nature of this honourable task in the shape of a week's entries from my diary.  Monday The Professor showed me a draft of his long-awaited article on string theory. Disappointingly, it seemed to dwell overmuch on the (theoretically) best containers in which to save string.  Tuesday The Professor was jubilant as he announced that he has added the 12-inch record of "The Umpire's Lament" to his collection of rare vinyl from the 1980s. The use of analogue synthesisers is, he claims, unparalleled in the field of leg-spin bowling.  Wednesday Nothing much happened that I can recall, although I did take the cat for a walk. I do not have a cat. The Professor is not answering his phone. Thurs day The Professor left a postcard in my letterbox under the cover of d...
Read more

The Following Thursday

-
Image
The following Thursday, while the members of the academy were busy discussing dictionaries, Daniel Brereton experienced a powerful sense of familiarity as he walked through the fire garden.  Low-flying birds watched him with suspicion.
Read more

Remembering Binky Theddlethorpe

-
Image
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.
Read more