Pliny's Train Ride

Pliny the Elder's bicycle was in three pieces. He wasn't going anywhere on that.

Would you like to come out with us this afternoon? I asked him. We're going to use public transport all weekend. We plan to take the bus into the city and then catch the train up to Belair National Park.

I would like that very much, said Pliny, looking pleased to be invited. I have never been on a bus or a train before, and I'm sure the National Park will be delightful.

Don't get too excited, Pliny, I said warningly. The National Park has never been delightful.

Nevertheless, said Pliny, I will come.

So we all got ready and walked over to the bus stop. The fourth bus let us on. We made it to the train with one minute to spare, and sat down next to the window.

Pliny gazed about with interest. Five boys had got on the train with mountain bikes, which a guard was officiously ordering them to rearrange in front of the doors, in case of emergency.

The train started off again. Pliny stared out of the window at the passing trees. Willows, he muttered. Olive trees, pines, aloes, geraniums, eucalypts.......do you by any chance have a pencil?
I lent him a pencil, and a little red notepad with a mushroom face on the front.

Here, Pliny, you can make notes in this.

Thank you, he said.

At Belair the three of us got out and walked into the Belair National Park, down steps and through a wooden archway built in grander days. Pliny nearly tripped over himself as he wrote furiously in his notebook.

I wondered what he could be writing. The Belair National Park was full of the dullest of trees. The light was sickly yellow and the path was lined with piles of stones from which twists of frayed blue and black plastic netting trailed in ugly heaps. I decided I was not the person to blog about this outing.

Pliny! I shouted, trying to get his attention.

But he didn't take any notice. He was too absorbed in taking his endless notes.

I mean to ask him to blog about it tomorrow.