of the....

We're not sitting on rocks! said Margaret crossly.

No, we're sitting on a hard wooden plank, said Le Bon David. I do know the difference. I was merely observing that sand is much nicer to sit on.

I agree with you there, said The VeloDrone. But only in part.

How's that? asked Le Bon David.

It's important to have a rest for the back, said The VeloDrone. Otherwise one can't sit for long. I have often had recourse to digging a small hole, with a pleasantly angled bottom, and a heap of sand for a back rest. That I find is quite comfortable.

As long as the sand is not damp, said Le Bon David.

Agreed, said The VeloDrone. It is advisable to cover it with a large beach towel.

Yes, one should always remember a beach towel, said Le Bon David. As well as a spade.

Is this what philosophers talk about? scoffed Margaret. Here we are, in the midst of the Contemplation, and you're on about beach towels and spades! Do you realise you're sitting on the words of a Croatian poet?

Sorry, Margaret, said The VeloDrone, looking down at the text in the wood.

But Margaret was sitting on it, which made it difficult to read.

"of the....." read The VeloDrone.

Never mind, said Margaret. You two like damp sand. You'll get damp sand. Come with me.

We don't like damp sand, said Le Bon David mildly. We just said.

No matter, said Margaret. You don't sit on this sand, you just lick it.