I was due to chat informally with the prof along with the rest of them at the start of the second term. I had to account for what I had done in the first term, which was nothing.
Luckily, waiting in the queue I worked up a line of bunkum that might get me out of the shit. It was all to do with Seneca and the state of philosophy in the age of Silver Latin.
Today I would simply hand him the prospectus for the next Crowther ebook: "My Mate Ironside".
This will be a collection of tales about walking through town behind the wheelchair of that scallywag Rick Ransford.
His life and times on the old housing estate come into it, naturally, because what else is there? Yeah, back then it was like the Wild West when he was hale and hearty. His mind has still hardly changed from that concoction, though he's forgotten quite a bit.
Should make 8,000 words: a dozen pieces with a flavour all their own. Friends, watch out for My Mate Ironside.