Name Tag

Oh look! said one of the ladies, whose name was Sandra. The tomato's fallen off the table.

She bent down to pick Frog up.

Careful! said Frog.

It talks! exclaimed Sandra.

I'm one of the group, explained Frog. I got up on the table because the chair was too low.

Why aren't you wearing a name tag? asked another woman, whose name was Nadja.

I didn't know we had to, said Frog.

I'll do one for you, said Sandra. What's your name?

Frog, said Frog.

The others at the table stopped talking and looked at Frog.

Are you here as an example of what we're meant to be talking about? asked Brad.

No, said Frog. What do you mean?

I mean, said Brad, you appear to be a frog that looks like a tomato.

Or a tomato that thinks it's a frog, said Nadja.

We don't allow that sort of thing to be made in Germany, said Elsa, who was German.

Don't be too concerned, said, Koh, who was Korean and worked in a lab. Such a thing is very difficult to make. It takes thousands of tries, and then, when you make one, it usually dies.

True, said the Professor. Everything contains the seeds of its own destruction.

Hey Ho! said Frog. Nietszche!

Dream Nasal

Last night Haydn appeared to me in a dream, wearing red trousers.

Hey! I said to him, in the dream. Are you German?

Nein! he replied. I am Austrian. But do not worry, I speak good English.

Sorry, I said. It was your red trousers. As you're here, perhaps you might explain to me about fifths.

I do not think it would do any good, he replied. I have come to you in a dream for a musical purpose, yes, but a more general one. I wish to explain to you why I was popular and why I still am.

But I already know, I said, because I have googled you.

Have you indeed. What do they say of me?

They say you were popular because you had learned to please and delight a prince. That you had a sense of humour, and were famous for your rollicking finales.

That is all?

No, no. They say you developed the classical forms with your fluidity of phrasing, and your use of classic counterpoint.

Very good. All that is true. Did they say anything about my personal life?

They said you married the sister of the woman you loved, and were unhappy, and that you suffered from nasal polyposis.

Nasal polyposis, he sniffed, is that what they call it?

Yes, it was a very agonising and debilitating disease in the 18th century.

Tell me about it! said Haydn. Is there a cure?

Not a cure. Nowadays they treat it with steroids, and sometimes surgery. The polyps may grow back though.

Well, well, said Haydn. Never mind. That gives me an idea for a rather amusing tune, with double stops.

Making Sense of Haydn

It's Friday. I'm at the Lunch Hour Concert with my mum. We've arrived early because it's the Australian String Quartet. We're sitting in the middle of the fifth row from the front, behind two empty seats. We have a good view of the stage from here.

Two of the tallest men ever sit down in front of us. Our row's filled up, we can't move now. My man has dark curly hair and a black cardigan. He looks like Alain De Botton, before Alain De Botton went bald, but not before the balding had begun, ever so slightly. My mother's man is even taller than mine. He has grey hair, a black jumper and red trousers. I deduce that he is German. The men start talking. Alain de Botton is English. The German is German, I was right.

I read the program. Haydn wrote a squillion string quartets and the two we are to hear are good ones. The first one features a Witches Minuet and the sounds of a donkey. It features interlocking intervals of descending fifths, and later on, thirteenths. I resolve to listen out for them.

Meanwhile I am trying to listen to Alain de Botton and the German. Try as I might, I can't catch what they're saying. Only the word economics, light, and intersecting lines.

The Australian String Quartet come on. They are wearing black and green and looking very pretty. Rachel's hair is cherry red, at the ends. I listen for the Witches Minuet. I have to wait a long time, but I hear it, because I'm following the program notes. I don't identify The Donkey, or the thirteenths. Or the fifths.

The concert is over and the two tall men remain seated. Alain de Botton says something I can't catch, except for 'stream of conciousness'. The German laughs. They stand up. I see his red trousers again.

I couldn't hear that properly, says my mum. My hearing aids were switched off.

On our way out we stop at the desk to ask if anyone has found my mum's umbrella. Jeanette goes downstairs to have a look. Claire the manager engages us in conversation. Aren't they wonderful! she says. And so are those quartets! A lot of people think that Haydn is a bit wishy washy, but these two pieces are so feisty.

Feisty, yes, I suppose that's what they are. Jeanette can't find the umbrella.

Later, my mum buys a new one.

Norwood to Goolwa

Le Bon David and The VeloDrone are watching the final moments of Stage 4 of the Tour Down Under in the back of their campervan, and eating Goolwa fish and chips from a paper bag.

The VeloDrone: Merde! The German wins again! I don't believe it! He complained of muscle cramps yesterday.

Le Bon David: Lucky you're not a betting man.

The VeloDrone: Normally, that would be true.

Le Bon David: Oh dear.

The VeloDrone: ( glumly) It doesn't matter.

Le Bon David: No. I mean, Oh dear, look what's happening now!

They turn their attention to the tiny television set, where Phil Liggett is interviewing Team Existentialist about their possible disqualification.

Phil Liggett: So, Professor Freud, what happened back there?

Professor Freud: A complete debacle! Stones everywhere!

Phil Liggett: You claim that people in the crowd were throwing stones?

Professor Freud: No no, we were throwing the stones. But Rousseau was throwing his deliberately backwards, Sartre was throwing his stones at the trees, and I was throwing stones at them to try and make them stop.

Rousseau: What's this! You claim I did something wrong?

Professor Freud: Yes, you did, and so did Jean Paul.

Jean Paul Sartre: An existentialist does what he feels is contingent upon him to do.

Rousseau: As for me, I never claimed to be an existentialist. I am a Romantic. I do what I feel I must do. And as I do not wish to be hit on the head with a stone, I throw it behind me, in case Galileo is right.

Freud: Well, you got hit in the back by my stone! And that served you right.

Jean Paul Sartre: So did I. And all I did was throw stones at a tree!

Phil Liggett: Well, well, calm down gentlemen. It remains to be seen whether your team will be disqualified, although it won't make any difference to the overall results. But you'll be pleased to know that Professor Freud has been conditionally awarded today's jersey for the Most Aggressive Rider.