Often in Cambridge it feels as if the walls are closing in. Sometimes, they are.
St Bede’s The Infernal drew a strong congregation of resurrection men, Cthullians and night-desk librarians.
No one ever wants to wake up with bad gravel rash and a pounding head in a railway siding but, in my wide experience, some are much worse than others.
In broad daylight the discreet removal from college of drunken dons or ancient blood drinking horrors always necessitated certain inconveniences.
Of course, it had been hidden where no Cambridge academic would look: on a lower shelf and behind discounted popular fiction.
In Cambridge, you can normally tell there is an ill wind blowing and a storm brewing when the Department of Augury and Climate Studies barricades its windows.
"Hum," mused the chaplain, contemplating the Tree of Suicides. "I’m not sure the gardeners haven’t gone a bit light on containment fencing this year."
I was increasingly uncertain how keen I was on visiting the library’s very special collections…
Sometimes in Cambridge you come across the levers of power in the most unexpected of corners.
Far too few people question the true purpose of the cage in the centre of the Cambridge market …
Of course you can leave Cambridge, you just can’t escape.
I could feel the first grey skies of winter closing in over Cambridge. Obviously, as they followed the hundred odd grey days of both autumn and summer, it was a subtle shift.
Cambridge on a sunny day is a town to die for. Unfortunately, it’s also a town where sunny days are rare and death works all weathers …
Six Fingered Sam sucked in his breath. “A triple crowned gate,” he growled. “These normally take a student card or dynamite to open. Pity I’m fresh out of student cards …”
When contemplating ram-raiding a heavily fortified library, it pays to pick the right tool for the job.