Dr Sneedlewhig and the Missing Tea
I have received messages from a number of ladies and gentlemen here, all asking the same question. “Dr. Sneedlewhig,” they ask me, “how is it that you came to maintain Damian Walker’s profile?” Well, in answer to this I shall be pleased to tell the tale.One day I happened to call at Mr. Walker’s residence to take tea. After some time of us discussing the news, and listening to the gramophone, Mr. Walker went to the kitchen to prepare our fourth cup. Upon a sudden I heard a great commotion, and rushed to the kitchen to see what was the matter. Who would have believed it: Mr. Walker had run out of tea!
Even as I write, I can hear you fine ladies and gentlemen shudder at the thought. Mr. Walker is not the best of housekeepers, but I never expected that even he would allow things to come to this. Clearly, remedial action was needed, and the first thing I did was to send to the merchant for some tea. “Any brand or quality will do,” I said, “as long as it gets here quickly.”
While waiting for the emergency supplies I considered the condition of my friend; you can imagine the shock which he had suffered might have an unfortunate effect on him. He thought to play the organ to calm his nerves, but I remembered how the neighbours took fright the last time he attempted this, and encouraged him instead to take to his bed. “It’s not quite that bad,” he said, but I knew that in such a case one cannot take chances, and so I was most insistent.
In order to take his mind of the recent calamity, which was by no means over yet, I brought him a few of his books from the shelf. Mr. Walker collects books on a number of subjects, being particularly interested in history and literature. But one of the books happened to be the Last Days of Pompeii. “How those Romans must have suffered,” he mused, “what with having no knowledge of tea.” So, thinking how this might bring his mind back to his present situation, I hastily took the books away.
The tea appeared to be taking a while, so I checked the time. Unfortunately the pocket watches which Mr. Walker has been collecting over the past year all showed completely different times, so I was none the wiser. Quite what function he thinks this collection serves if it not kept wound and set, I do not know, but at least I now knew part of the reason for his lack of organisation skills.
Mr. Walker does like his food, although his strengths are rather in enthusiasm and physical capacity than in taste and knowledge of the subject. So I cooked him up a Good Stout Broth from my collection of agreeable remedies, being particularly generous with the stout in consideration of the condition he was in. I took it to him and he tucked in with gusto.
In the mean time I poured him a glass of vodka which, while it lacks quite the same medicinal value as tea, Mr. Walker seemed to appreciate with undue relish. He never seems to run out of alcoholic beverages, I noticed. After imbibing the large dose I gave him, along with the broth, his spirits appeared to revive a little, if not his senses.
As the vendor really did appear to be taking his time with the tea, I cranked up the gramophone and put on some music. Buxtehude is one of Mr. Walker’s favourite composers, along with Bach and Handel, and I have heard that his attempts to perform some of Buxtehude’s preludes on the organ are described as “highly original”, among other things. The gramophone versions were more conservative, however, with particular attention being paid to the accuracy of the notes.
I kept Mr. Walker alert and entertained by discussing plans for his hobby of photography. As Mr. Walker had recently been a man of leisure, he had lacked no time to devote to his hobby. However, his main idea for improvement of his skills is to buy more cameras, rather than to spend more time in using them, so I am not sure how his temporary freedom from employment helped him. With my encouragement he did think of a few projects which might involve l
Last modified: Wednesday, June 24th, 2026 at 4:13am
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