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May Contain Traces of Dodo, Part 39: Dodgson unbound

Mary Dunwich writes: Saturday. Charlie and James set off bright and early for Oxford, with Dodgson sulking in his dodo carry-box in the car boot. Minne went to the Higgs-Bosons to bake mince pies with Olivia. I was left on my own to explore LingQ's Russian library and fill my mp3 player with files of beginners' Russian. It was tea-time when the travellers returned. Charlie looked exhausted and James was gibbering quietly.

""Did Harry get to Magdalen all right?"" I asked, pouring Charlie a cup of tea.

"Oh, Harry was fine," answered my husband, coming to the table. "We dropped him off for 10 a.m. and went off to the Science Museum to check on Albert's blackboard. He found he'd got his equations right so he was happy. We went back for Harry at 1 p.m. and it looked like he'd had a great time. There was this pretty psychologist talking to him and he was staring at her feet. He looked pretty keen on her." Wow, sounds like my boy's finally discovered girls. What am I saying? I've gone from fancying Harry to thinking I'm his mother. I hastily changed the subject.

"Who was in charge? Did you meet them?" I asked, sitting James down and handing him a scone.

"It was one of their professors. Claridge I think," answered Charlie, sitting down and taking a sip of tea. "He and the boys really hit it off. He spent ages talking to them." "He's an Abnormal Professor. I suppose it's because he's a professor and he's not dead, " said James, his eyes slightly unfocussed. "He was really interesting! He gave us tea. I had three cups with sugar and two slices of cake!" "No, he's a normal professor of Abnormal Psychology", responded Charlie with the air of a man who has explained this several times already on the drive home. "Yeah. We told him all about Albert, and building the time machine, and going back to the seventeenth century and trying to meet Guy Fawkes. He was really interested! He said he wanted to see a dodo, so I went to get Dodgson out of the car." "Good Lord!" I spluttered through a mouthful of tea. "What did he say when he saw him?" "He didn't get to see him," said James sadly. "I had just got Dodgson out of his box and was putting his lead on when he ran away from me. He scooted down the path and hid in a lot of shrubs. I ran after him, but this man ran up and started shouting at me for treading on the fritillaries. I told him I was looking for my dodo but he wouldn't listen. He said I was a yob with no respect for nature or history. By the time he went away Dodgson was nowhere to be found. I left trails of Maltesers over the paths but he wasn't coming for them. I'm never going to see him again!" His eyes filled with tears. I could feel mine starting to prickle too. Over the last few weeks I've really grown fond of that pudgy little fellow. But I wasn't going to let James see that, and Charlie didn't look like he could handle any more waterworks. I coughed.

"Do you realise what you've done, young man?" I asked sternly. "You have released an extinct wild animal into the grounds of the oldest and most historic university in the world!" (Memo to self, must look Oxford up on Wikipedia some time. I don't know much about Oxford, I'm a Harrogatian myself). "I hope we don't get into trouble for this." "I hope Dodgson will be alright," muttered Charlie gloomily. "It's getting cold at nights and he's not used to sleeping outdoors." "I asked the angry man if fritillaries were poisonous to dodos but he didn't answer," added James plaintively. "Was he wearing his collar?" I asked them. "If anyone finds him they are bound to ring us and let us know." If they don't stuff him, eat him or keep him for themselves, I thought glumly. "Oh yes," James answered. "And I gave Professor Claridge a full description. He promised to organise a search." Hunting for a dodo in the grounds of Magdalen College must count as unusual behaviour even by the standards of an Oxford don. Perhaps he is the Abnormal Professor of Psychology after all.

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Mary Dunwich writes:

Saturday.
Charlie and James set off bright and early for Oxford, with Dodgson sulking in his dodo carry-box in the car boot. Minne went to the Higgs-Bosons to bake mince pies with Olivia. I was left on my own to explore LingQ's Russian library and fill my mp3 player with files of beginners' Russian.

It was tea-time when the travellers returned. Charlie looked exhausted and James was gibbering quietly.

""Did Harry get to Magdalen all right?"" I asked, pouring Charlie a cup of tea.

"Oh, Harry was fine," answered my husband, coming to the table. "We dropped him off for 10 a.m. and went off to the Science Museum to check on Albert's blackboard. He found he'd got his equations right so he was happy. We went back for Harry at 1 p.m. and it looked like he'd had a great time. There was this pretty psychologist talking to him and he was staring at her feet. He looked pretty keen on her."

Wow, sounds like my boy's finally discovered girls. What am I saying? I've gone from fancying Harry to thinking I'm his mother. I hastily changed the subject.

"Who was in charge? Did you meet them?" I asked, sitting James down and handing him a scone.

"It was one of their professors. Claridge I think," answered Charlie, sitting down and taking a sip of tea. "He and the boys really hit it off. He spent ages talking to them."

"He's an Abnormal Professor. I suppose it's because he's a professor and he's not dead, " said James, his eyes slightly unfocussed. "He was really interesting! He gave us tea. I had three cups with sugar and two slices of cake!"

"No, he's a normal professor of Abnormal Psychology", responded Charlie with the air of a man who has explained this several times already on the drive home.

"Yeah. We told him all about Albert, and building the time machine, and going back to the seventeenth century and trying to meet Guy Fawkes. He was really interested! He said he wanted to see a dodo, so I went to get Dodgson out of the car."

"Good Lord!" I spluttered through a mouthful of tea. "What did he say when he saw him?"

"He didn't get to see him," said James sadly. "I had just got Dodgson out of his box and was putting his lead on when he ran away from me. He scooted down the path and hid in a lot of shrubs. I ran after him, but this man ran up and started shouting at me for treading on the fritillaries. I told him I was looking for my dodo but he wouldn't listen. He said I was a yob with no respect for nature or history. By the time he went away Dodgson was nowhere to be found. I left trails of Maltesers over the paths but he wasn't coming for them. I'm never going to see him again!"

His eyes filled with tears. I could feel mine starting to prickle too. Over the last few weeks I've really grown fond of that pudgy little fellow. But I wasn't going to let James see that, and Charlie didn't look like he could handle any more waterworks. I coughed.

"Do you realise what you've done, young man?" I asked sternly. "You have released an extinct wild animal into the grounds of the oldest and most historic university in the world!" (Memo to self, must look Oxford up on Wikipedia some time. I don't know much about Oxford, I'm a Harrogatian myself). "I hope we don't get into trouble for this."

"I hope Dodgson will be alright," muttered Charlie gloomily. "It's getting cold at nights and he's not used to sleeping outdoors."

"I asked the angry man if fritillaries were poisonous to dodos but he didn't answer," added James plaintively.

"Was he wearing his collar?" I asked them. "If anyone finds him they are bound to ring us and let us know." If they don't stuff him, eat him or keep him for themselves, I thought glumly.

"Oh yes," James answered. "And I gave Professor Claridge a full description. He promised to organise a search."

Hunting for a dodo in the grounds of Magdalen College must count as unusual behaviour even by the standards of an Oxford don. Perhaps he is the Abnormal Professor of Psychology after all.