Mrs Pammer's Comb

Today, Pliny and Nostradamus decided to take a picnic lunch to Port Noarlunga. It was 32 degrees and sunny.

After lunch they walked south along the beach. Twofold glass green waves rolled in, and spread like boiling sugar on the sand. Behind the reef in the middle distance rose white fountains of spume, while black waterfalls poured down in front. The cream, ochre and rust-coloured cliffs
towered under a blue sky. Below the cliffs, the river flowed fast towards the breaking surf.

As they were passing the surf lifesavers' tent, Nostradamus saw a strange object at the water's edge. He picked it up. It was a small black metal hair-trimming comb, with sharp blades, embedded in an ear-shaped lump of white mastic. The words " Mrs Pammer's" were stamped into the metal along the straight edge of the comb. Pliny and Nostradamus tried to guess how old it was. Three million years, said Nostradamus. Egyptian, said Pliny. Then Nostradamus threw it away.

On board a ship it would have been sensible to store a small sharp object by pressing it into a piece of something sticky, Pliny thought. It would have kept it safe, until they went and lost it.