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Back to the Unknown Region

The passengers, being experienced English commuters, carry sturdy umbrellas that acted as effective parachutes when we leapt from the balloon and, now, serve as excellent sun shields, so everyone is quite comfortable. I tell everybody that aunt Humperdink’s Special Train Service will be along in a short while to carry them back to London, if they don’t mind waiting. They tell me that waiting on the cold, wet and utterly inhospitable train stations in England is such a miserable experience that a lot of people simply lose the will to live but that here, in the warm, dry, Sahara, waiting for a train will be a pleasure.

Reassured as to their well-being, I explain that, although I would like to wait with them, I am vexatiously behind schedule and, before returning to England, I have to return to the Unknown Region to rescue the young recruits who I abandoned on their desert survival exercise some time ago. The passengers thank me for an interesting journey and insist that I visit them when I return to England: I leave them barrels of Vintage Glenburgie, Rossbank, Tormore and Tobermory Special Reserve, to keep their spirits up and, waving goodbye and wishing them the best of luck, head off to the Unknown Region as fast as I possibly can.

Professor Humperdink’s Diary