by C. Litka
Chapter 14: Sunday 7 July
01
Saturday was wet and cool and I spent the day finishing up photographing the handwritten pages.
Learmonte stopped by mid-afternoon while I was taking the last of the photos and showed him how I was going about it. He watched for a while. Not a congenial companion, but not ranting either.
'Blake tells me the printed pages were just extracts from other books and papers,' he said after a while. 'You didn't mention that last week.'
'I didn't think you'd be very receptive, especially since I had to copy sections of the texts to do the search,' I replied, pausing in my work. 'So I decided just to pass information on to my supervisor and let him deal with it.'
He didn't reply for a moment. 'And what did these works tell you?'
'Not much. I'm sure you're right – they're the theoretical basis of whatever method he devised to transmit energy, but I didn't see anything in the printed parts that says how. No doubt we'll have a better idea of what he was up to once I've transcribed his handwritten notes.'
Again, he didn't reply for a while. He was keeping his temper in check today.
'What do you think these written pages are?' he asked, indicating the handwritten pages in the plastic sleeves. 'You've seen all the pages now.'
I turned to him and said, 'I'm starting to recognize words in your grandfather's handwriting, but you must understand that everything is in fragments, even on a single page. That said, I believe they're what you're hoping for, an explanation of what he was doing, and how he did it. The amount of diagrams and formulas included in what remains of these pages, suggest that they deal with the process in detail. However, everything will be very fragmented. Much is no doubt lost. Still, they'll offer plenty of hints for the scientists and engineers who'll study the fragments.'
Again, no comment, except, 'How soon will you be done?'
'Can't say. Since Professor Blake is to give you an assessment, he'll expect me to do a very thorough job, so you might as well be patient and let me do the job right the first time. If it's not up to his standards, he'll just bounce it back to me to finish – in Cambridge.'
'Right,' he said, after a while, and then left.
I stared at the door for a while after he left, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Better just to avoid him, if I could, I decided, once again, and went back to work.
It was too damp and uninviting for my evening bike ride, but as I was standing in my doorway, I saw Nesta and the dogs walking across the far paddock, fly rod in hand. I briefly toyed with the idea of joining her, but decided not. Last night was a start on a friendship, I'd best give it time to grow, and give her the space she needed. And well, it was damp and cool, and I still had work to do.
02
According to the weather forecast, the seasonal temperatures are here to stay for a week or more, and after sleeping in, I woke to another cool, windy, sunny and showery day. I also woke up restless. Since it was too damp to weed the garden and I needed a break from TTR, I studied the maps on my watson as I ate my breakfast and charted a course for a day's outing on my bike.
Dressed in my Norfolk jacket and packing my rain gear, I set out eastwards. At Maryfield, I turned briefly north, and then eastwards to a narrow cart track north, through an old pine forest and on to open fields that gently fell to a glittering grey lake. The air was mild, fresh, but I failed to avoid every passing shower, so I was soon a bit damp and feeling sorry for myself. Many a Sunday morning I'd gone riding with friends, especially in my undergrad years, and now here I was riding alone in a strange country, damp and lonely. Poor me.
Eventually I came to the village of Lononbridge, and then took one of the old “A” roads southwards to Inverness. All the shops were closed, and the glistening wet streets, largely deserted. Fortunately, I found an open café, with a Wi-Fi hot spot, where I could settle into a cosy booth for a hearty lunch and, over a pot of tea, catch up on my correspondence.
The first thing I did after downloading my messages and info-sites was to call Red Stuart. He'd been badgering me to come down ever since I mentioned that I was in Scotland on a pet project for Professor Blake. (I didn't dare to make up a too elaborate a story, on the assumption we'd get together.) We had a nice chat and arranged to meet in Glasgow in a fortnight. The riding club he belongs to would be doing a two-day ride south of Glasgow that weekend, and I'd be welcome to ride along. It sounded like just what the doctor ordered, so I promised to be down.
I then called Professor Blake. He was out so I just left a quick message and then sent him a text report. I then called Penny, but she was out too, so I told her I'd try later.
The sun was out and the rain-clouds swept off to the North Sea when I emerged from the café and I started out again, heading south around the Beauty Firth, passed Belgate Woods, and on to Ordmoor reaching Maryfield around 7 where I stopped to call Penny again. We had a nice long talk and I reached my digs shortly before 9 pm. I was having a cup of tea on the bench outside my door when I saw Nesta returning across the paddock with Willie and Watt at her heels.
I rather fear I've filled this entry, with trivia, but it turned out to be a rather good day. I'm looking forward to getting a lot of work done tomorrow. To tell the truth, I'm growing impatient to see what TTR has to say.
