A Semblance of Progress

So much for you pressing on, said Pliny the Elder. You are still stuck in last Friday, and you haven't even mentioned the music you went to the concert to hear.

Yes, I admitted, I forked off so many times that now I have all but forgotten it. I do remember the last piece being excruciatingly repetitious. The harpsicord theme was repeated 159 times. Everyone was glad when it ended, especially the harpsicordist.

I thought you liked repetitious music, said Pliny. You were listening to something on the radio the other night that nearly made me want to jump out of the window.

Oh that was techno music, I said. It's meant to make you feel like that. Well, to jump up and down anyway. It's not the same at all.

I think it is, said Pliny firmly. Now, what about the road not taken?

The road not taken? You mean yesterday?

It is yesterday now. It was today when you chose not to take it. What happened?

Oh yes! We went to the Farmers Markets at Wayville. It was drizzling. We bought 4 potatoes, a loaf of bread and a splinter of vintage cheese. As we were leaving we heard the most mysterious sounds which seemed to come from beyond the Showground sheds on our left. It was like horns, or trumpets. It was like a large herd of cattle honking musically, or a brass band playing something very modern and unstructured. Then again it sounded like a cacophany of car horns. But the Showgrounds were deserted.

O mysterious indeed, said Pliny. Did you ever find out what it was?

Yes, I replied. We did. It was the sound of the horns of a mighty convoy of heavy transport vehicles decorated with coloured balloons and flags, giving 300 disabled children the ride of a lifetime. The sound carried all the way from the parklands. On our way home we were held up for ages at the traffic lights while more of them hurtled by. If we'd taken a little less time in selecting our cheese we would have missed it.

This cheese, said Pliny. Where is it?