I return, triumphant, from Hofftinghempton.* My speech to the assembled throng of UK Bloggers (East) on my forthcoming art/brickwork-installation ‘Giselle Sous Patio’ was greeted with tumultuous applause, hilarity, and some weeping.
My entrepreneurial career is blossoming, like the magnificent cherry trees lining Hoffingthempton’s graceful boulevards.
My return has been marred, however, by the intrusion of ongoing academic duties.
Giselle – Head of the School of Hieroglyphology – rudely interrupted my entrepreneurial musings this morning to demand my presence at the Colloquium of Psycho-Grammarians gathering today in Seminar Room 1C.
It seems that some time last year I had agreed to open the post-coffee roundtable discussion on ‘Language Change and Mourning: The Elegiacs of Lost Particles, Fleeting Vowels, and Eclipsed Consonants’.
In Giselle’s eyes, I see, the agreement still stands.
Let me tell you a little secret, dear Reader. I have not given much thought to Psycho-Grammatology.
The solution comes to me.
I shall discuss the emotional resonances of delicate adverbs of place trapped between two immovable nouns.
I gather my Hoffingthempton notes, and leave for Room 1C.
*Do not forget that unexpected infixed ‘t’, dear Reader: Hofftinghemptonians (‘Hurrumphumptuns’, to those in the know) are a proud sort.