Always A Quamquam

Not far now to Balranald.

Gaius is looking forward to buying something to eat which is not a tomato.

Terence is waiting for Margaret to come up with a poem.

Margaret is trying to do it.

She has encountered a problem.

Not many words rhyme with calcareo-siliceous.

Except for words that will remind Gaius of tomatoes.

Such as delicious. And nutritious.

And she's not going there.

Perhaps there's no need for a rhyme.

Or she could break the words up, to invent her own rhymes.

Is it ready yet? asks Terence.

Not yet, says Margaret. I could do with a pencil.

Couldn't we all, says Gaius. I really must remember to get mine out of the boot when we get to Balranald.

I'll remind you, says Terence.

Thank you, says Gaius.

No one else wrote their poem with a pencil, says Terence.

What are you saying? asks Margaret.

Except you, says Terence. So it's cheating.

Does anyone else think it's cheating? asks Margaret.

Not really, says Katherine.

Nor me, says Gaius. A poem is better written down. It helps one remember.

And fiddle about with the endings, says Margaret.

I see much thought is going into your poem, says Gaius.

Perhaps too much, says Margaret.

Quamquam, says Terence.

Quamquam what? asks Margaret.

Quamquam you don't have a pencil, says Terence.

As luck would have it, they have now reached the outskirts of Balranald.

And minutes later, the middle.

Katherine pulls up outside a café. 

Pencil, says Katherine.

I'm reminding him, says Terence.

Go on then, says Katherine. I was just reminding you.

Remember your pencil, says Terence.

Thank you, Terence, says Gaius. 

Will this be sufficient to ensure that Gaius looks for his pencil?

Travelling with Women

I've got it, says Margaret. Except for dicendum.

Dicendum?  says Katherine.

The meaning is somewhat ambiguous, says Margaret.

Perhaps it was meant to be , says Katherine.

Margaret looks at Gaius.

Was it? asks Margaret.

What says your google translation? asks Gaius.

Although I prefer my own company, says Margaret, there is something to be said for travelling with women.

How nice, says Katherine. What about that is ambiguous?

Something REQUIRING to be said, says Margaret. What is it?

It is not requiring to be said, says Gaius.

Then why say it? asks Margaret.

A poetic observation, says Gaius.

Is this about the tomato sandwiches? asks Margaret.

Not at all, says Gaius. I shall buy something for myself in Balranald. I assume there'll be shops.

They may be closed, says Margraet.

I hope not, says Gaius.

Who won the competition? asks Terence.

Let's vote on it, says Katherine. Who votes for Terence?

I haven't composed mine yet, says Margaret.

I thought you weren't going to, says Katherine.

Well, I am, says Margaret. I feel I should join in.

Let's see who votes for me so far, says Terence.

I do, says Katherine.

I do, says Gaius. 

So Terence is in the hot seat, says Katherine.

Yikes! says Terence.

Everyone laughs, even Margaret, because no one expects she will win.

Where The Verbs Are

When may we expect to arrive in Balranald? asks Gaius.

About four o'clock, says Katherine. Why?

I was just feeling peckish, says Gaius.

You should have had a sandwich in Pinnaroo, says Margret.

I would have, says Gaius, but for the toxic contents.

Tomatoes are perfectly safe to consume, says Margaret.

Yes, think of the Mediterranean diet, says Katherine.

Or a red potato smoothie says Terence. They're good.

I don't doubt that, says Gaius.

Does that mean yes, says Terence.

Does what mean yes? asks Gaius.

I don't doubt that, says Terence.

It means I'm sure of it, says Gaius.

How's your poem going, Gaius, asks Katherine.

Nearly done, says Gaius. I'm just placing the verbs.

At the end I suppose, says Margaret.

Conventional, but  probably best, says Gaius.

Is it about the geological features we're passing? asks Margaret.

Or frogs? asks Terence.

Not at all, says Gaius.

Let's hear it, says Katherine. It won't matter to us where the verbs are.

Very well, says Gaius.

He begins:

Quamquam praefero/ Societatem meam/ Aliquid dicendum est/ De peregrinatione/ Cum feminis.

Silence.

 I told you no one would get it, says Terence.

Perhaps just as well, says Gaius.

What's a quamquam? asks Terence.

It means although, says Gaius.

That's in my poem! says Terence. Terence the Good/ He did not eat the potato/ Quamquam he could.

That's so clever, Terence, says Katherine. Isn't it, Margaret?

But Margaret is busy on her phone, google-translating Gaius's poem.

It seems straightforward, except for dicendum.

Why Hills Are A Line

They are still a long way from Balranald.

Gaius is snoozing.

Margaret is helping Katherine with her poem.

Calcareo-siliceous? says Margaret.

Not very poetic, says Katherine. I prefer rolling hills.

But what rhymes with hills? says Margaret.

The hills don't have to come at the end of a line, says Katherine.

Ha ha, laughs Terence. The hills ARE a line.

Terence's laughter rouses Gaius.

Umph! Huh! Are we there already? asks Gaius.

Not yet, says Katherine. Terence was explaining why hills are a line.

No I wasn't, says Terence.

Perhaps he was referring to the hilly skyline, says Gaius.

Yes, I was, says Terence.

I'm trying to work them into my poem, says Katherine.

How is it going? asks Gaius.

Along the grey road / Through rolling hills/ And man-made cuttings, says Katherine.

That's descriptive, says Gaius.

Past yellowing grasses/ And limestone deposits, says Katherine.

I suppose simpler is better, says Margaret.

On we go/ Waiting for an answer from Arthur/ Regarding something that we want to know, says Katherine.

Oh, well done Katherine, says Gaius. You've described our journey up to this very moment.

Does that mean she wins? asks Terence.

Not at all, says Katherine. Yours is still in the running.

I might try my luck too, says Gaius. If no one minds an offering in Latin.

Go for it, says Katherine.

Yes go for it, says Terence. You won't win in Latin.

Why not? asks Gaius.

No one'll get it, says Terence.

I will, says Margaret.

Gaius suspects Margaret will only know geological Latin.

And starts planning his poem accordingly.

With No Pencil

Now Terence has red stains on the back and the front of his costume.

Can we clean it? asks Terence.

No time, says Katherine. We'll clean it when we get to Balranald.

Take it off in the meantime, says Gaius.

He helps Terence take off his costume.

They climb into the back seat of Katherine's car.

Curses! says Gaius, as they drive along the A20.

What is it? asks Katherine.

Damn pencil, says Gaius.

Oops! says Terence.

Never mind, says Gaius. We'll remember to look for it when we get to Balranald.

That's two things, says Terence. Clean my costume and look for a pencil.

Three things, says Katherine. A coffee break and more sandwiches.

By the river, says Margaret.

That will be lovely, says Katherine.

What's in the rest of the sandwiches? asks Gaius.

Cheese and tomato, says Margaret. You'll have to pick out the tomato. 

You didn't happen to make any without tomato? asks Gaius.

No, says Margaret. Tomato adds moisture to the sandwich.

Making it delightfully soggy, says Katherine

Yes, tomato sandwiches tend to improve with the day, says Margaret.

Gaius sits back. He is not of like mind with these women.

Let's talk more about green and golden bell frogs, says Terence.

They are dull olive to emerald green, says Gaius. With brown to golden bronze blotches.

And a cream or yellow strip down the side, says Margaret.

You are knowledgeable, Margaret, says Katherine.

And they make up poems, says Terence. 

That is pure fantasy, says Margaret.

Not at all, says Gaius. The one for Saint Roley has been recorded. Arthur wrote it down.

He probably wrote it himself, says Margaret.

It isn't his style, says Gaius. It's definitely by the frogs. If only I could recall the whole poem.

Why don't you text Arthur, says Katherine. He'll have a copy.

Excellent idea, says Gaius. 

He sends Arthur a text.

Arthur, do you have a copy of the poem Saint Roley the Good?

Arthur is surfing at Middleton with Sweezus and does not see the text.

Nothing happens for five minutes.

I know! Let's have a poetry competition, says Terence.

Oh no! says Margaret. They're not really my thing.

I'll have a go, says Katherine. But I'll need some thinking time.

You go first, Terence, sasys Gaius. 

Terence doesn't need thinking time. 

Terence the Good/ did not eat the potato/ although he could, says Terence.

Very nice, Terence, says Katherine.

 If somewhat derivative, says Margaret.

Judging by these responses, Terence thinks he will probably win.

Red Potato Smoothie

Five kilometres to Pinnaroo, observes Katherine.

Good, says Gaius. This time I really must look for my pencil.

I'll remind you, says Terence.

Thank you, says Gaius.

I forgot last time, says Terence.

I know, says Gaius. But so did I.

They pass a sign with a smiling potato.

Look! says Terence. A smiling potato!

They grow potatoes out here, says Margaret.

Yay! says Terence. When we stop I'm going to put on my costume.

Good idea, says Katherine. People will admire your potatoes.

As he walks away, says Margaret. And only if they turn around.

I'll twizzle, says Terence.

No need to twizzle, says Gaius. Just put it on back to front. 

Terence sees at once that this is a very good idea.

Katherine pulls up at the Pinnaroo roadhouse.

They get out of the car.

Gaius helps Terence into his costume, with the potatoes at the front.

We'll try and clean the red line off the back while we're here, says Gaius.

They enter the roadhouse.

Margaret goes up to the counter. Three teas please, says Margaret.

Anything to eat?  asks the attendant.

No thank you, we've brought our own sandwiches, says Margaret.

The attendant notices Terence in his potato costume.

Hello young fellow, says the attendant. I like your costume.

I painted the potatoes myself, says Terence.

They are very realistic potatoes, says the attendant. And I ought to know. 

Are you a potato farmer? asks Katherine.

I am the daughter of a potato farmer, says the attendant.

Perhaps we should order some chips, says Margaret.

You won't be sorry, says the attendant.

 I might, says Terence. 

Can't you eat chips? asks the attendant.

No, says Terence. Only red drinks.

I could whip up a red potato smoothie, says the attendant. 

How wonderful! says Katherine.

So the attendant takes a container of pre-cooked mashed potato out of the fridge and proceeds to whizz it up into a smoothie.

When she has finished it is red, and quite runny.

How did you get it so red and runny? asks Margaret.

Added Ribena, says the attendant.

Woo! In Pinaroo they do creative things with potatoes.

He Did Not Eat Us

We'll stop for lunch in Pinnaroo, says Katherine.

Can I take my costume off? asks Terence.

You should have done it before we got started, says Margaret.

I'll assist you says Gaius.

Why now? asks Margaret.

Because it's got a red line down the front, says Terence.

The red drink? says Gaius.

Yes, says Terence. 

Gaius helps Terence out of his costume.

Where are you going to put it? asks Katherine.

I'll wedge it behind your seat, says Gaius.

Terence sits down.

Bumhole! says Terence.

What did I tell you? asks Katherine.

Not to say it, says Terence. 

Why did you say it? asks Margaret.

Because I can't see, says Terence. 

Margaret twists round in the passenger seat to see why Terence can't see.

The only thing you can't see is the back of Katherine's seat, says Margaret.

I could see more before, says Terence.

You were standing, says Gaius. I suppose you could stand and hold onto the top of the florin. 

Pretend that you're driving, says Katherine.

I'm not a BABY! says Terence.

Sorry, says Katherine. 

Look out of the window, says Margaret. You might see some fossils.

He'll need sharp eyes to see fossils, says Katherine.

What are fossils? asks Terence.

You know what fossils are, says Gaius. Kobo is a fossilised clam.

I wish she was here, says Terence

Why is that? asks Gaius.

I'd have someone to talk to, says Terence.

You can talk to me, says Gaius.

What about? asks Terence.

The green and golden bell frog, says Gaius.

Okay, says Terence. 

Did you know, says Gaius, that they are good at inventing on-the-spot poems?

What nonsense! says Margaret.

Not at all, says Gaius. I recall one that four green and golden bell frogs came up with several years ago for Saint Roley.

How did it go? asks Terence.

Saint Roley the Good! He did not eat us, although he could, says Gaius. 

How sweet! says Katherine.

I'm glad you think so, says Margaret.