Still Looking for Him

Wednesday night. The end of the year. The Professor is still missing, the lecture hall is still sealed every hour, and the first-years are still coming: in scarves, in cloaks, in school uniforms and once, memorably, in a dinosaur onesie.

I have kept a tally of what they leave behind. Three hair ties, a bus ticket, a single mitten and a very good drawing of me, which I have kept.

The summer holidays are about to begin. Families who want a session should book now, on the booking page here, where Melbourne and Manly are both listed and a place is confirmed on the spot. The Headmistress tells me her academy fills just as quickly. She is generally right about these things.

Goodnight from Collins Street. If you find the Professor, tell him his owl has kept things running. And that I would like a raise.