Triangles

Baby Pierre was right. Rabbie, Ageless and Lavender were on their way back to town and already Lavender was bored.

Ageless was explaining something important about triangles.

On a Euclidian plane, said Ageless, the angles of a triangle always add up to 180 degrees, while on a spherical plane the angles always add up to more than 180 degrees, which can easily be demonstrated by drawing a triangle on a balloon....

Yawn, yawn, yawn, said Lavender. I don't suppose you've got a balloon?

No I haven't, said Ageless.

I thought not, said Lavender.

'Tis interestin'. Go on, said Rabbie.

However, said Ageless, on a hyperbolic plane the angles of a triangle will always add up to less than 180 degrees. And the larger the triangle the less they'll add up to.

I canna quite picture it, said Rabbie, scratching his head.

You'll see, said Ageless, when we get to the Science Exchange. The Crocheted Coral Reef is a perfect physical model of hyperbolic space. If I were a crocheter instead of a knitter, I would have joined the volunteers who helped make it. It also proves that in hyperbolic space Euclid's fifth axiom is violated.

You don't say, said Lavender. As if anyone knows what that is, Ageless! You google too much. I just hope it's pretty!

.......

Meanwhile Baby Pierre was regretting sending Lavender away. Now he was really alone.
What was the use of a quest if you had no one to share it with? If only Frog was still around. But Frog was just a squashed tomato memory.

He walked out on to the jetty. What was it that Lavender had said about a fisherman? The fisherman had a bucket full of yucky things. And what had the Seagull Oracle said about that? 'Well there you are then'.

Baby Pierre walked to the very end of the jetty. He looked out at the grey heaving waves. He looked down at the barnacled pylons. He heard a sound, like the sound of an empty bucket blowing in the wind at the end of a rope.

Kafka's Bicycle

The editors of Velosophy are celebrating yet another triumph.

Le Bon David: Another glass of champagne, my friend?

The VeloDrone: Don't mind if I do, David, don't mind if I do.

Le Bon David: Cheers! Drink up. You know I still can't get over how popular that story of Pliny the Elder's has been. Who would have thought a detective story would appeal to philosophers, eh?

The VeloDrone: It's all to do with who he is, don't you think? If anyone else had written it, it would have gone down like a lead balloon.

Le Bon David: True. But I don't think anyone else could have written it, do you?

The VeloDrone: No. There's just something rather delicious about him going round solving mysteries in his toga.

Le Bon David: I'm thinking of asking him to write a follow up story. Another Pliny the Elder detective mystery. It could become a cult thing.

The VeloDrone: Yes let's ask him. Meanwhile, have you got any ideas for next week?

Le Bon David: I'm still waiting on 'Galileo's Bicycle' from Professor Freud. But I had an interesting letter from that chap whatsisname.... Kafka, recently. He seems keen to send us something. Says he's never ridden a bicycle in his life. Legs are too long. And he has a nasty cough. But he's nearly finished a piece that has a bicycle in it, 'albeit small' , he says.

The VeloDrone: Albeit small? Did he mean the bicycle or the story?

Le Bon David: We shall have to wait and see.

Mullets

Woke up with a headache. Must not drink port after wine. Ate breakfast.

Later.

Walked in to the city down Magill Road. Remembered why I don't normally. Dog turds. Pear cores. Dandelions. A rose petal that turned out to be a shred of balloon.

Met my mum. Had lunch in a new venue. The Adelaide University Staff Club. We don't look like staff, but nor did anyone else, except for some extremely old men who might have been. Had soup and so didn't qualify for the free coffee.

Went to the Lunch Hour Concert in the Elder Hall. Miwako Abe was wearing a bright pink filmy sequinned top. She played Greig, Szymanowski, Bartok. I was surprised to discover Bartok was Scottish.

Concert over.

We went shopping. My mum was looking for an orange top to brighten up something that was grey. She was looking also for some grey pants. So it didn't really matter what she got. In the end she couldn't find anything orange that didn't make her look fat, in her opinion. Or grey.

Then.

Then it was raining. I borrowed her umbrella. Walked to the Central Market. Got wet feet. Met Nostradamus who had providently turned up with the car. Bought apples, bananas, pineapple, mandarins, strawberries, brussels sprouts, zucchini, choy sum, potatoes, 4 cleaned and headed mullets.

Now.

Gotta cook the mullets. But how?