Despite knowing that Mrs. Love’s remaining days would be few and abject, Mr. Love experienced a sinking feeling he couldn’t put a name to. Fellowship with the Well-Dressed Albatross provided little guidance through this malaise.
Pim Comic Strip
How I came to write Pim
People often ask how I came to write Pim. It seems like a thousand years since I discovered Pim, or that Pim
discovered me. Thankfully I kept detailed notes and saved photos from that time. While I can’t swear to the
absolute accuracy of what you are about to read, I have done my best to capture the essence of how Pim entered my life.
They set out by night. (Pim and Bim don’t favour darkness over daylight for sleep. It comes of being so even-tempered.)
Pim and Bim had never dissolved their shipping company. It had, however, been years since they’d received a call for a dispatch.
The tables having been miraculously turned, Mr. Love placed Mrs. Love in a cage and arranged that she be shipped somewhere a sea bird was unlikely to survive for long.
He entered Mrs. Love’s room to discover a balcony overlooking the coast of Collioure. In casting a spell that was intended to turn Mr. Love into a gull, she had inadvertently turned herself into one.
The interminable darkened corridor was lined by doors to nowhere, numbered according to the Fibonacci sequence. It terminated in the unnumbered door of Mrs. Love’s quarters.
Mr. Love imagined that his mother had watched Medea only as far as the catastasis. He himself most enjoyed the catastrophe, and longed for such horror to fall upon Mrs. Love. Such we’re his thoughts as he left the theatre and advanced upwards along a serpentine staircase.
Mr. Love continued to ascend the tower and discovered that Mrs. Love had made the fourth floor into a repertory cinema. Just to spite Mr. Love, she’d hired Mr. Love Jr. as its projectionist.
On the next floor of the tower Mrs. Love had created a Library for Social Justice. Mr. Love discovered the Well-Dressed Albatross there examining an 1851 edition of Henry Mayhew’s ‘London Labour and the London Poor.’
Once inside it became clear that Mrs. Love’s new home wasn’t as charming as it had first appeared. It was yet another of her disused prisons, this time with the dark implements of a vanished era.
