All items referred to in last newsletter successfully accomplished or equally successfully ongoing. Had a great time in Cardiff, where the university really knows how to put on a show, even if we’re getting a tad tired of the M4!
I’ve uploaded another file to my free stories site. “Bloody Mathematicians” features Jonty and Orlando, from the Cambridge Fellows series, having a little falling out.
Orlando Coppersmith made his way down King’s Parade, stopping to admire his visage in the window of Ryder and Amies. He liked the appearance of his newly grown beard and moustache; it made him look like one of King Arthur’s more desperate knights, something which was out of keeping with his character although pleasing to his ego. He swaggered along to the tea shop where the Master of St Bride’s was waiting for him, hopefully with the hot chocolate and rum babas ready for consumption.
“Coppersmith!” Dr Peters rose and greeted his colleague. “Been getting into arguments again? I could hear the row all the way to the Lodge.”
Orlando rolled his eyes. “I apologise profusely. It was that bl…Dr Stewart again. Parking his bike where no decent man should. They drive you mad.”
“People who park their bikes inconsiderately?”
“No. People who teach English. Dilettantes, the lot of them.”
Peters smiled. “That seems a little harsh. They may spend half a lifetime wondering about one particular word in Hamlet but that’s no reason to tar them all with the same brush.”
“It’s not just that. Take the way they dress. They look like…” Orlando stopped himself from saying “An army of Oscar Wildes coming down through the market”. That would smack of protesting too much. “A load of scarecrows. It
shouldn’t be allowed.”
Peters seemed like he was about to say something, then stopped himself, settling for looking out of the window at some young idiot from the college next door haring about on a bike. It was a good two minutes before he broke the silence. “You and Dr Stewart were such good friends.”
Orlando took an even longer while to answer. “We were, as close as two men could be. But that was before…” Before what, exactly? They’d quarrelled—he couldn’t even remember the cause now—and said the most stupid things. He’d packed a bag and left, the words “Good riddance!” sounding in his ears.
If you want to know what happened next, hie thee hence.
Only in Wales can one be walking round a Victorian castle with Norman and Roman bits in it and find a Bollywood film in production, just the other side of the stocks!