Love and Laughter

By Bertram Ellis

Professor Dexter, a young professor who teaches business ethics also covers personal relationships. Love. But he has never been in love. When challenged about his ignorance he determines to study the subject. He asks female studednt to take part in an experiment to explain what love is. One young woman leaps into his arms as he says, No. No, that's not what i meant. His study results in embarrassing and exciting adventures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bertram Ellis
• Release date: Aug 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301739097

Bertram Ellis

Bertram Ellis had a successful career with the de Havilland aircraft company of Canada. He was a pilot until he lost his licence due to deteriorating vision. He has traveled the world, Europe, Africa, the Middle East the far East and South America.Among his adventures he has been blown up, shot at and imprisoned briefly in Saudi Arabia. Lost in the Sudanese desert south of Omdurman,fished the Mighty Zambezi. During all his adventures he has kept his belief in the essential goodness of ordinary people. He is a published author of short stories. A handbook on how to write your memoirs. Since retirement he has presented seminars on how to write your memoirs, at no charge, for many years. He lives in St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada with his artist wife Karen. He has three children and ten hgrandchildren

Book preview

LOVE AND LAUGHTER

By

BERTRAM ELLIS

Copyright Bertram Ellis 2013 Smashwords Edition.

Chapter one.

Professor George Goldstein hated the start of the college year. For the first few weeks at some imaginary sound he would jump up from his desk, restless and worried.

Every year it was the same. Every year he wondered Is this the year that all hell is going to break loose? He knew it was going to happen sooner or later. He’d been lucky so far, but what sort of students did they have this year? Drug addicts? Sex perverts? Troublemakers looking for any excuse. The newspapers had suddenly become were full of stories of young people out of control. He prowled around the school corridors

He looked into every room as he strode through the corridors. All seemed well. Young men and women at work in seminar, laboratories and trade shops. He barely glanced into lecture room’B; Professor Dexter was giving a philosophy lecture. The students would either be half-asleep, or reading something under their desks.

What was that? He backed up and took another look. The class was paying attention. Some even leaning forward in their chairs. He shook his head. Such animation at one of Dexter’s lectures. What could it be? Ah this is the senior class, Dexter’s topic was ‘Duty and morals of modern man.’

Damn. Damn. Damn. Why do they have this at the start of the academic year. Wasn’t there enough talk of sex in the papers and on TV. He didn’t approve of the topic, Birth rates and the Economic effects of birth control, but the school board set the curriculum. Not that he had anything against sex, but he considered the young men and women an explosive mixture that could be ignited by the word sex And there’s Dexter putting ideas in their heads. He would have to watch this situation. Really it is too much. I’m getting too old for this job. He sighed and returned to his study. The day was almost over and he hadn’t even started the damn paper work.

It was quiet in the lecture room. After years of boring agony, philosophy had suddenly become a disconcerting study of their own lives. Their relationship to one another. Their attitudes and morals.

Professor Dexter who had been described as a stuffy Englishman smiled on his attentive audience with the clear eyes of a man who had never committed a cruel or dishonorable act. He believed that philosophy was superior to any of the other sciences and he told his class that anyone who lived by reason could expect a life of peace and harmony. The man who is loved by woman is blessed and that love combined with wisdom equaled happiness. He was a young man by college standards so he had grown a full beard to give himself a ‘Professorial’ appearance.

During the question period that followed his lecture he answered perennial questions with time polished answers.

A bulky girl stood and asked belligerently, Who should be boss in a marriage of equals?

"I depends on the function that needs bossing. Many marriages survive without a boss., but generally any institution without a firm leader waffles. It never gets anywhere. Next question.

So you are saying the man should be boss. I expected that.

That’s not what I said, but if that’s your opinion. Next

Uh, Do you consider it moral for a partner to take a lover if the other partner is incapable of making, uh, love, sir?

"No matter what answer I give you human nature will change it. You must decide that one for yourself.

He enjoyed answering questions. He liked to think he was making them consider the questions from their own point of view. Preparing them for the cut-throat world. He pointed to one of the raised hands, a Roman Senator gracing the existence of a slave.

A fair haired young man stood and stared at a spot above Dexter’s head. You are not married. Have you ever been in love, sir?

The question brought a gasp from some of the female students The young man’s face turned pink, but he remained standing.

Hilary waved his hand as if shooing away a fly. No, Tom I regret that my studies occupied so much of my time that I missed the honor and pleasure of love.

There was a collective, oooh. From the young women

The temperature in the room seemed to have fallen, Professor Hilary Dexter sensed what the next question would be, if the young man had the courage to ask it.

Tom glanced around the room at the now-silent class. They had been attending to their homework. They knew what was coming. Tom hesitated, went to sit down, then braced his shoulders. Sir, with respect, you have lectured us again and again that a man is not qualified to comment on that of which he has no experience . . . Hilary’s own words, . . .that his opinions are second hand, second rate and cannot be trusted. Your comment, please.

In the silence that followed the proverbial dropped pin would have sounded like a pistol shot.

He knew he wasn’t wildly popular with the students, but no one disliked him either. He needed all their sympathy now. He felt his self-assurance and prestige draining away.

I assure you that in my case, study of the subject matter and numerous case histories have more than compensated for my lack of personal experience He groaned to himself, that sounds like bullshit even to me. Any other questions? He tried to smile.

The room was silent. He had never known such a cold reception. He struggled to think of a joke to ease the silence. His mind was a blank.

The recess bell rang stridently. The students stood up. Burst into instant chatter and laughter and with a clatter of feet and a rustle of papers left the room. Hilary remained standing at the lectern. It was the end of classes for the day. He gathered up his notes and walked out.

He crossed the college lawns to the staff house. He liked the old college. It reminded him of old building in England. An ivy covered, grey stone, gothic style building that had been constructed in the early 1900’s. For years it stood dignified and alone in the peaceful countryside. Then came the highway and houses and apartments and shopping malls. Then factories and a railway line to complete the urbanization of the area.

The staff house was also an ivy covered building across from the main campus. The building looked solid and comfortable with its shade trees carefully tended lawns and flower beds. It was often used by advertising agencies as a background for expensive cars, or beautiful models in expensive gowns. It was a welcome source of extra income for the college.

Inside, the staff house was cold a draughty. The paintwork a uniform beige, faded with age . Floorboards that creaked, worn from constant use. Hilary didn’t notice any of these things. This was his home. His apartment was next to Professor Barnaby Onions, pronounce O-ions, a mathematician. They got on well because they never listened to one another’s complaints. If one complained the other gave a sympathetic grunt.

Hilary entered his apartment and looked for somewhere to put his papers. The sideboard was stacked with books and magazines. His desk was loaded. The floor was booby trapped with piles of books. He threaded his way across the floor to the desk, pushed some papers aside, which promptly slid off and onto the floor and lay his latest collection in the space.

He and Barnaby took turns to prepare supper. Hilary took two frozen dinners out of the freezer, tore of the wrappers and slid them into the microwave oven. He didn’t read the instructions he was thinking about the questions he had been asked. Maybe what he taught was second hand and unreliable. He really knew nothing about the world outside academia . The thought depressed him. He washed his hands, pushed books and papers to one end and laid the table.

Barnaby walked in at that moment and sniffed loudly. Ah. Turkey.

Is it? Damn, we had turkey yesterday.

Never mind old chap. There’s not taste to the dammed stuff anyway. Have a good glass of port with it and you won’t care what it is. He proceeded to pour two generous measure in Hilary’s glasses. Cheers, he said and emptied his glass.

Take it easy, Barnaby. That’s my last bottle.

Ha ha. Barnaby produced another bottle from his pocket.

I say, I’ve never seen you stack your books on the floor that high before.

It’s the damn cleaning woman. Says she can’t vacuum because of them. She had the nerve to put them in boxes. I soon put a stop to that.

Quite right.

Took me weeks to sort them out.

M’mm.

I’m always having a row with cleaning women. Can’t understand why we keep getting new ones.

M’mm. Time you served that offering, Barnaby said, pouring another glass of port.

They change so frequently I don’t even bother to ask their name anymore. I call them all Mrs. Thing.

Hilary placed the plastic trays on the table and they started to eat. Barnaby opened a new book on calculus and grunted his disapproval. Hilary chewed his rubberized turkey deep in thought. His answer was probably being repeated all over college by now.

He cleared away the containers and brought out a tray of cheese and crackers. He sipped his port. Had my integrity challenged today.

M’mm. This cheese is dry. This all you have?

Young man questioned my competence to talk about love.

Love! Barnaby choked on a cracker crumb, coughed and cleared his throat. Love?

Not sex. Love. You know, uh, affection.

Huh?"

They challenged me. Me. It’s true I’ve never been in love, but I think I’m a competent authority on the subject. I’ve studied the physical and psychological personality changes that occur when people fall in love. Why I can predict with great accuracy a couple’s compatibility and tell where their main area of conflict lies. Bah! I do not have to have personal experience to be able to speak with authority. Have I ever been in love. Absurd.

Barnaby close his calculus book. :You have never been in love?"

No. defensively.

They munched cheese in silence.

I was in love once.

Oh! coldly.

Yes. Molly, that was the girl’s name ran off with a chap who blew up balloons for a living. Very witty chap, all the kid’s parties he went to I suppose. She was frivolous, never trusted women since then.

More port?

Thanks.

This was change. They were talking and drinking more wine than normal. Barnaby held his glass up to the light and squinted at it. Have you ever taken a girl out and uh, you know?

Certainly not.

Never.

Never.

Barnaby smiled, then laughed, then rolled back in his chair bellowed with laughter.

Hilary had never heard him laugh before. He frowned.

Barnaby choked, blushed nibbled on a cracker, took a swig of wine and laughed again.

Damn it, Barnaby. My integrity is challenged by the students, no less, and you sit there laughing like a Baboon.

Like a Hyena, is the saying, I believe.

I said Baboon and I mean Baboon You red faced fool.

They became silent and looked at one another embarrassed .

Good heavens.

Uh, I apol;ogize.

No,no,no My bad manners I shouldn’t have laughed at your loveless plight. You know what I tell my kids when they can’t solve a problem in their heads. Prove it empirically. Do the experiment yourself. Pour me another glass. Thanks. Yes Cheers that will fix it.

What will?

Go fall in love.

Don’t be foolish. How do I do that?

Barnaby leered at him with one eye closed. You should know you just told me you’re an authority on the subject.

Yes I am. I understand the working of the female mind, their strange way of reasoning. I could have one of them in my power. No. I couldn’t do it. I’d be taking advantage. I’ve always considered myself a gentleman. I couldn’t deceive a young woman by pretending to fall in love with her. Love is self-hypnosis you know, and I’m too level headed to fool myself. He sipped his port and thought about it. It would be fun though, wouldn’t it?

Have another drink, Barnaby emptied the bottle into their glasses , held it upside down and looked at it regretfully. But, you would really have to fall in love old chap. Make a study of it, keep asrecord of events and write a book about it. You could become an authority on the subject. And don’t deceive the young lady, tell her right up front that you want to fall in love with her as an experiment. Then she won’t expect too much"

Hilary frowned, at least that what it felt like to him. He was having difficulty keeping his eyes focused. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. Where’d you go?

Barnaby was sitting on the floor. I’ll just sit here for a while. He lay his head on a pile of books.

Hilary staggered across to his easy chair, shoved some books and papers off it and sat down, leaned back and started to mutter to himself. I don’t believe tion of what happens to a person when they fall. I could write a book. What shall I call it? ‘An experiment in love. No that sounds lewd.Notes on lovemaking. Goodness me no! How I fell in love, sounds like a school girls novel Dman it, people will put such ,meanings on words I know I’ll just call it Love, by Professor Hilary Dexter He looked over at Barnaby who was snoring gently.

Barnaby, I’m going to do it, he shouted.

Barnaby came awake with a start. He knocked over a stack of books. Another pile started to sway.

Lookout, Hilary shouted. He leapt from his chair, scattering papers, started to dash forward and tripped over another pile of books and landed beside Barnaby. All around the room, like arrow of dominoes piles of books leaned against one another before crashing to the ground raising a cloud of dust.

Barnaby, coughing, blew his nose, What did you say, old man?

"I said I’ll do it. I’m going to fall in love.

Chapter Two.

Next morning after breakfast Hilary and Barnaby sorted the books they needed for