44 Scotland Street: Professor Purdie, Sleepers, Top Hats Professor Purdie, Sleepers, Top Hats Volume 9, Episode 32 The rather surprising conversation about spontaneous combustion saw them the length of St Stephen Street. Now, just before they turned into India Place, Bertie noticed the Floatarium and pointed it out to his father. "That's the place where Mummy goes to float," he said. See it, Daddy? They have those big flotation chambers and you go inside and it's all dark and you float on the water. Even your pillow floats. They fill the tanks with water from the Dead Sea. Really, Bertie? Yes, Mummy likes it. She takes her friends there sometimes. Stuart nodded. It must be fun. Remember that therapist? Remember my last psychotherapist, Daddy? Yes, Bertie, I remember him. Bertie looked up at his father. Not the one I've got now. Not the Australian one. Not him. The one who looked like Ulysses? Stuart was silent. "He went to the Floatarium," said Bertie. "I suppose a lot of people go there," said Stuart evenly. It must be very relaxing. "He went to the Floatarium with Mummy," said Bertie casually. Stuart's pace slowed down. He looked up at the sky. "I think he liked it," said Bertie. "That house over there," said Stuart, pointing to an ancient stone house standing by itself on a corner. That's a very old house called Duncan's Land, Bertie. That's where Professor Purdie lives. He's a friend of Angus Lordie's, I believe. Angus says that Professor Purdie tells some very good stories. Bertie looked at the house. "Did Mr Lordie tell you what they were?" he asked. "He did, as it happens," said Stuart. Can you tell me one, Daddy? Stuart tried to remember; something about the Crown Prince of Japan at Oxford - that was one of them. And then there was the man on the sleeper from London... "Oh yes," he said. I remember one, Bertie. There was a businessman in London who got on the sleeper train bound for Glasgow. But just as he left London he had a telephone call from his boss who said there was some trouble at their business in Carlisle. Could he get off he train at Carlisle and then go on to Glasgow later the next day? So the man went to the sleeper car attendant and asked him whether he could get off early. The sleeper car attendant said no, they only stopped for a minute or two to change drivers in Carlisle and it wasn't an official stop. But the man persuaded him to wake him up and put him and his luggage off the train as a special favour. And the sleeper car attendant was a very kind man, and so he said he would. "And did he, Daddy?" asked Bertie. "Well, no," said Stuart. You see, the next morning the man woke up and found that the train was coming into Glasgow. And so he was jolly cross and he went to see the sleeping car attendant and he told him how cross he was. And I'm sorry to say, Bertie, he swore at him very badly. You mustn't swear at people, as you know... "Tofu does," said Bertie. Yes, Tofu... Anyway, this man was very cross and he swore really badly at the poor attendant. And then the attendant said: "I'm awfie sorry, sir. It's entirely my fault; my mistake. But I can say one thing for you, you're a very good swearer, sir, very good - almost as good a swearer as that man we did put out at Carlisle Station... Stuart looked down at Bertie. "You see..." he started to explain. But Bertie was grinning. "So they did put a man out at Carlisle Station," he said. And that man was jolly cross because he didn't want to be put out. "Precisely," said Stuart. Bertie smiled. I wonder who told Professor Purdie that story. "I expect he made it up himself," said Stuart. Angus Lordie says he's very good at these things. "Could we go and see him some day?" asked Bertie. Stuart thought this was possible. I think we could, Bertie. We'd get Angus to give us an introduction. "A letter of introduction?" asked Bertie. Well, we probably wouldn't need anything that formal. I would have thought that maybe just a telephone call from Angus would be enough. He could say that there's this fellow called Bertie who'd like to make your acquaintance... "Who's seven now," said Bertie proudly. Who's seven now and who's interested in Scottish history and Robert Burns and things like that. I'm sure that would do the trick. Bertie beamed with pleasure at the thought of being introduced to a real professor, and particularly to one who knew a lot of stories and jokes. "You know that painting in the Scottish National Gallery?" he said to his father. I saw it when Mummy took me there. It's called the Letter of Introduction. "I think so," said Stuart. Is it the one where the boy, or young man, rather, is standing in front of the older man, who's looking at the letter he's given him? "That's the one," said Bertie. And the man's dog is sniffing at the boy. He looks very suspicious. It's by Sir David Wilkie, Daddy. He was a famous artist, you know. Stuart laid a hand on Bertie's shoulder and patted him. "You're a fund of information, Bertie," he said. You really are. Bertie looked anxious. I'm not showing off, Daddy. I promise you. Of course you aren't, Bertie. I'd never accuse you of showing off. And never be ashamed to know things, Bertie. There are a lot of people these days who think it's smart to be know nothing. "Tofu," said Bertie. And added, "Larch too." Oh well, don't you worry about them, Bertie. They were now getting close to the bridge that crossed the Water of Leith at the end of Danube Street. Off to their left, set up against the edge of Lord Moray's Garden, was a large, quite isolated house, deposited as if an afterthought to the elegant Georgian terraces at the top of the cliff behind it. Stuart remembered something that he had heard about that house years ago. "That house," he said to Bertie. Did you know that a long time ago when it changed hands, the new owners discovered the attic was full of top hats, Bertie? "How strange," said Bertie. I have no idea, Bertie. Nobody has.