Joseph Mallord William Turner Caernarvon Castle

Joseph Mallord William Turner Caernarvon CastleJoseph Mallord William Turner The Slave ShipJoseph Mallord William Turner The fighting Temeraire tugged to her last berth to be broken upJoseph Mallord William Turner The Burning of the Houses of ParliamentJoseph Mallord William Turner Rainbow
whumm . . . whummWHUMM.
The Bursar held his breath.
Plib.
Plib..
Plib.
The Archchancellor peered at the hourglass on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s doin’ it every five minutes now,’ he said.
‘And it’s Over the page was a diagram. The Bursar stared at it.
‘Found anything?’ said the Archchancellor, without looking up.
The Bursar shoved the paper up the sleeve of his robe.
‘Nothing important,’ he said. Down below, the surf boomed on the beach. ( . . . and below the surface, the lobsters walked backwards along the deep, drowned streets . . . ) up to three shots,’ said the Bursar. ‘I’ll have to order some more sandbags.’ He flicked through a heap of paper. A word caught his eye. Reality. He glanced at the handwriting that flowed across the page. It had a very small, cramped, deliberate look. Someone had told him that this was because Numbers Riktor had been an anal retentive. The Bursar didn’t know what that meant, and hoped never to find out. Another word was: Measurement. His gaze drifted upwards, and took in the underlined title: Some Notes on the Objective Measurement of Reality.