I've been busy.

The manse needs rewiring and the plumbing has to be fixed. There's no central heating, so I'll have to get that put in too. Lucky I didn't pay much for the house.

This means I have to deal with Neanderthals. The good part is they'll have the run of the house while I'm not in it, so I won't have to look at them.

Saw a wonderful article on a photo of one of those big cat sightings in the UK. Turns out it looks exactly like a toy black panther, which of course it was. Big cats wandering the countryside indeed. What next, a race of giants in the Welsh mountains? There's barely enough in those hills to feed a wild dog.

I'm leaving work at the end of this month. I have plenty of holiday time, and I'm taking all of it. To hell with Grimshaw. If he wants the lab cleared, he can do it. It's his lab now. Though what use he can make of scientific apparatus I can't imagine.

Everyone thinks scientists get ahead because they're good at science. Well, they're wrong. Scientists that get ahead do so because they're useless. They get promoted into managerial positions to keep them out of everybody's way, because they're nothing but a liability in the lab. Then they're surprised when nobody takes any notice of them.

I'm taking the proper route. Head of a very small department, and it'll stay that way. I'm interested in science, not empire building.

Back from Marchway. It's a small town, based around the remains of a monastery. Dates back to the 12th century, but there's not so much as a hooded shadow to report. How can a town that old have no ghost stories at all?

Maybe all of Marchway's ex-residents rest in peace. More likely, the town's so deadly dull even the ghosts don't stay.

It's good news for me anyway. I won't have to worry about ghosts and goblins popping up on my doorstep. I think I'm going to like it there.

I bought the manse, it's a big house, needs some work but it should all be fixed up by the end of September. The estate agent assured me it had no tales of spirits associated with it.

Looks like I'll be doing a lot of travelling though. There's absolutely nothing to investigate in Marchway.

Elaine finally came back this week. She looks miserable as sin. Apparently it was her brother's funeral. Funny, I'd spoken to him the day before she left. He seemed fine to me.

I've been too busy to post here, what with Grimshaw whining at me about the medium I was investigating. He still thinks I'm too intolerant but if I find a fake, I say so.

Next week I'm visiting Marchway to get some accomodation sorted out. With luck I can persuade Elaine to do the same.

Elaine's gone off for a funeral, right in the middle of our investigation of another useless medium. I wanted to get this all cleared up before I left here, but it'll have to wait now. I hope it can still be finished in time.

She's gone for a week. Surely funerals only take a few hours?

I told her I want to be cremated when I die, and have my ashes thrown in Grimshaw's face. So I can get up his nose, one last time.

She has no sense of humour.

Grimshaw's gone very quiet. My resignation's been accepted, but it went over his head.

He's going to have to make do without my funding sources in future. Oh, he'll try to claim it's all departmental money, but it's not. It's all mine, all moves with me wherever I go. Tough luck, Grimshaw.

I start in Marchway at the end of September. Unfortunately I have to work out three month's notice here first, but I've never taken any holidays so they won't see much of me.

My assistant, Elaine, is resisting the idea of moving with me. She can't want to stay on here with Grimshaw, and I certainly don't want to go to all the trouble of finding a new assistant. It's some ridiculous family thing that's holding her back. She'll come round.

Back from the interview. They gave me the job, naturally. I stayed over in Marchway's one hotel, the 'White Monkey', so I could examine the available housing. I've put my name on an old manse at the edge of town. Looks quiet, neighbours are unlikely to pester me with all that housewarming nonsense. No ghostly rumours, which is good. The last thing I want is a batch of amateur ghost-catchers turning up and photographing dust around my house.

It needs some work but I can get it done before I move in. With luck, that will be at least a week before I start work.

On Monday I break the news to Grimshaw. I can't wait to see his bloated, acne-ridden expression.

Finally. I have the interview at Marchway this Friday. I know the Chancellor there is against the formation of a parapsychology department. I wonder what forced his hand?

It doesn't matter. He'll know my reputation. I'm exactly what he's looking for to head the department. No nonsense, no New Age fundamentalism, just pure science.

There's only one potential problem, but hopefully she won't apply for the job.

Even if she does, she'll blow it. She believes in the supernatural. Chancellor Orson doesn't. I only have to say four words and the job's mine.

There are no ghosts.

Wrote up the case of the fake medium, though I doubt it'll get past Grimshaw so it'll never be published. Read about a case on an industrial estate, the workers reported feelings of unease and seeing things out of the corners of their eyes. The press made a big deal out of it, but it'll probably be traced to infrasound. Probably a worn motor in the fridge, or something like that. That's if they bother looking. Hauntings make better news than dodgy appliances.

Speaking of eyes, I'm getting floaters again. It must be the stress of waiting for the Marchway interview. They'd better hurry up and offer me the job, or I'll apply elsewhere.

A quiet day. Started packing things up. I'll have to travel to Marchway to look for a house.
I should be invited for interview soon.

Oxford, June 4th 2005

I hate Grimshaw. He's an idiot.

Yesterday I debunked another medium. The woman didn't even attempt to hide her deception. She told everyone to close their eyes, can you believe it? While everyone else had their eyes closed, one of her assistants dropped a keyring on the table. So everyone opens their eyes and presto, a keyring has apported from thin air.

Well, Grimshaw - he's my boss, by the way - said I should have handled the matter with tact and delicacy. Hah! No, I said, I exposed the fake there and then. If my language was a bit harsh, that's just too bad.

He threatened to fire me. I resigned.

He doesn't know I've already applied for the Marchway job. I'll be glad to see the back of him. This isn't the first time he's interfered with my investigations.