What happened to me at the end of that? asked Pliny the Elder.
At the end of what? I asked.
At the end of your post yesterday, said Pliny. You began by speaking to me and finished up having a conversation with Li Feng, a conversation that should have formed the middle part of the story. By rights, I should have had the last word.
Why?
It would have been more satisfying.
To you maybe. What would you have said?
I would have asked, said Pliny, whether your friend understood the joke.
I knew that, I said. That is why I left you out. It would have been a flat sort of ending. And anyway, I had run out of space.
May I ask it now? asked Pliny.
No. We're going to change the subject.
Good, what it is going to be?
What would you like it to be?
Birds.
It's not going to be birds. Let us stretch ourselves. It's going to be about space.
Space? As in..... room?
No space as in Outer Space, but we have run out of room. It will have to be our subject for tomorrow.
Nonsense! There is room. Let us begin on the subject. What do you know about Space?
Well, I went to a lecture on Space last night after which there was champagne and cheese. I had two drinks and ate a lot of cheese. Now, I just need to recall what I learned.
It is unwise to eat too much cheese in the evening.
True, but I learned a lot more than that.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
The Green Bean Flour Pastry Joke
Well well, said Pliny the Elder. Now we know all about lobsters.
Not all about lobsters, I said.
What don't we know? asked Pliny
We don't know why the Chinese have stopped buying our lobsters, I replied. Did you hear it on the news?
I did, said Pliny. It is a mystery. I have a theory, he added.
What is it? I asked.
They want us to eat our own lobsters, said Pliny
That would be nice, I said, speaking of which...
Yes? enquired Pliny
My Chinese friend Li Feng gave me the weirdest morning tea this morning.
Lobster? asked Pliny.
No, not lobster.
Then why did you say speaking of which?
Because she's Chinese and she wanted me to eat something .
What was it?
She said it was green bean flour pastry.
And what was it?
It was a bowl of warmed up chunks of transparent cooked flour and water, cut into strips and served with soy sauce and spring onions.
Hmm, said Pliny. Did you eat it?
Yes, I ate it and said it was nice. I asked her how she made it. Easy, she said. I wasn't surprised. Add green bean flour and water and boil it, she told me. Then, leave it on a plate to get.....
Hard, I said, chewing valiantly.
Hard, she repeated. Then you cut in pieces. Some of them I make.....
Long and thin, I said.
Long and thin, she repeated, and some of them short and.....
Wide, I said helpfully. It was going well, I risked a joke.
But they taste the same, I said.
Not all about lobsters, I said.
What don't we know? asked Pliny
We don't know why the Chinese have stopped buying our lobsters, I replied. Did you hear it on the news?
I did, said Pliny. It is a mystery. I have a theory, he added.
What is it? I asked.
They want us to eat our own lobsters, said Pliny
That would be nice, I said, speaking of which...
Yes? enquired Pliny
My Chinese friend Li Feng gave me the weirdest morning tea this morning.
Lobster? asked Pliny.
No, not lobster.
Then why did you say speaking of which?
Because she's Chinese and she wanted me to eat something .
What was it?
She said it was green bean flour pastry.
And what was it?
It was a bowl of warmed up chunks of transparent cooked flour and water, cut into strips and served with soy sauce and spring onions.
Hmm, said Pliny. Did you eat it?
Yes, I ate it and said it was nice. I asked her how she made it. Easy, she said. I wasn't surprised. Add green bean flour and water and boil it, she told me. Then, leave it on a plate to get.....
Hard, I said, chewing valiantly.
Hard, she repeated. Then you cut in pieces. Some of them I make.....
Long and thin, I said.
Long and thin, she repeated, and some of them short and.....
Wide, I said helpfully. It was going well, I risked a joke.
But they taste the same, I said.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Hope
dear ageless,
pull yourself together ageless! i amm sure you must have mmoulted many times before, if you lose your claws too bad won't you grow some mmmore?
no i would not like to be with you inside a hole of sand you would not like it nor would i and i will tell you why it is no good to be trapped and forced to dig away the sand that falls into your hole the hummans do not like it. i don't have that problemm nothing gets in here but books
they put the sand in kerosene tins and every night mmen from the village draw it up on ropes, so yes there are people there who do not have to dig out sand only ten houses and the people there are slaves, yes the man escapes he is caught and brought back then he builds a trap and calls it hope. he wants to catch a crow and tie a mmmessage to its leg.
does he catch a crow no, does he ever get away no, one day the womann is taken off to hospital they leave the rope ladder behind, the man climbs up and looks around he sees his trap is broken so he goes back down to mmend it he thinks he has plenty of time, that is the end
oh sorry ageless i forgot the cobbles never mmmind it is not too late no
then not caring he let the sand run down his throat along with the water. it was as if he were drinking cobbles
that is from chapter 18 ageless,
but i have changed one of the words
that is all ageless, now i will wait for however mmany weeks you need to stop being a rubber toy, don't worry i amm used to waiting that is what we fossils do i have a new book to read it is by w sommmmerset mmmmaughamm
all the best your friend not girlfriend
kobo clamm
pull yourself together ageless! i amm sure you must have mmoulted many times before, if you lose your claws too bad won't you grow some mmmore?
no i would not like to be with you inside a hole of sand you would not like it nor would i and i will tell you why it is no good to be trapped and forced to dig away the sand that falls into your hole the hummans do not like it. i don't have that problemm nothing gets in here but books
they put the sand in kerosene tins and every night mmen from the village draw it up on ropes, so yes there are people there who do not have to dig out sand only ten houses and the people there are slaves, yes the man escapes he is caught and brought back then he builds a trap and calls it hope. he wants to catch a crow and tie a mmmessage to its leg.
does he catch a crow no, does he ever get away no, one day the womann is taken off to hospital they leave the rope ladder behind, the man climbs up and looks around he sees his trap is broken so he goes back down to mmend it he thinks he has plenty of time, that is the end
oh sorry ageless i forgot the cobbles never mmmind it is not too late no
then not caring he let the sand run down his throat along with the water. it was as if he were drinking cobbles
that is from chapter 18 ageless,
but i have changed one of the words
that is all ageless, now i will wait for however mmany weeks you need to stop being a rubber toy, don't worry i amm used to waiting that is what we fossils do i have a new book to read it is by w sommmmerset mmmmaughamm
all the best your friend not girlfriend
kobo clamm
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Moulting
dear kobo i am sorry,,,,
i am sorry dear kobo i did not mean to be offensive we lobsters are like that,,, offensive,,, but i did not mean to be,,,,,
thank you for,,, clik clik,,, writing to me about the sand,,,,, does the man escape up the rope ladder and what happens to the sand they shovel up,,,,,where does it go?,,,,,do tell me more about the man and the woman i think of you and me being trapped together in a hole,,,i would not mind being trapped in a hole of sand with you kobo,,,,,,
but you might not like that,,,sorry,,,,,
and now clik clik i must tell you about the moulting it will not please you,,,,,kobo,,,oh,,, i will very soon be moulting,,,,,it is nearly clik clik time,,,,,
my flesh will shrink to a quarter of its size,,,oh oh,,, my shell will clik clik crack i will drag myself out,,,, if i am unlucky my claw muscles will get stuck,,,,,,and i will have to let them go,,,,,you see what this means kobo i will not be able to write to you for quite a while,,,,,,,
i'll soak up seawater to gain weight,,,,, i'll eat my shell,,,,it gives me calcium,,,,i'll be soft,,,soft,,,like a rubber toy,,,,,
well now i have told you kobo,,, i have started shrinking kobo,,,,,
tell me what happens next,,,,,,put cobbles in it,,,sorry,,,please,,,,,,
your ageless x
i am sorry dear kobo i did not mean to be offensive we lobsters are like that,,, offensive,,, but i did not mean to be,,,,,
thank you for,,, clik clik,,, writing to me about the sand,,,,, does the man escape up the rope ladder and what happens to the sand they shovel up,,,,,where does it go?,,,,,do tell me more about the man and the woman i think of you and me being trapped together in a hole,,,i would not mind being trapped in a hole of sand with you kobo,,,,,,
but you might not like that,,,sorry,,,,,
and now clik clik i must tell you about the moulting it will not please you,,,,,kobo,,,oh,,, i will very soon be moulting,,,,,it is nearly clik clik time,,,,,
my flesh will shrink to a quarter of its size,,,oh oh,,, my shell will clik clik crack i will drag myself out,,,, if i am unlucky my claw muscles will get stuck,,,,,,and i will have to let them go,,,,,you see what this means kobo i will not be able to write to you for quite a while,,,,,,,
i'll soak up seawater to gain weight,,,,, i'll eat my shell,,,,it gives me calcium,,,,i'll be soft,,,soft,,,like a rubber toy,,,,,
well now i have told you kobo,,, i have started shrinking kobo,,,,,
tell me what happens next,,,,,,put cobbles in it,,,sorry,,,please,,,,,,
your ageless x
Friday, November 26, 2010
The Rope Ladder
ageless!
you are not mmy boyfriend ! and you will not be mmy boyfriend if you write about such things as mmmating indeed. mating. ugh. you go too far too fast mmmy ageless dear
i am a clam we do not mmate like that we do not touch one another that is why my sensibilites are offended by those things you tell me about mmating
nevertheless i am interested in mmoulting i wish i could mmoult i amm too long inside this hard and heavy shell if i could get out, if it would break open, i would be free to grow a new and pretty shell mmade of shell with little holes that let in all the light
tell me mmore about your mmmmoulting, ageless dear
and i will tell you mmore about the sand now,
....the womman's house is half buried under sand, sand falls on the roof at night the sand pours down in streams it gets into the water jug the cooking pots it sticks to the perspiring bodies of the mman and the womman, at night they dig the sand away the walls are soft like wet biscuit, in the mmorning they sleep, they place towels over their faces or the sand will get into their eyes and mmouths and noses it does anyway, the rope ladder has been taken away, the mman cannot escape, he forms a plan....
do you like it ageless ?
till next time,
kobo clamm x
you are not mmy boyfriend ! and you will not be mmy boyfriend if you write about such things as mmmating indeed. mating. ugh. you go too far too fast mmmy ageless dear
i am a clam we do not mmate like that we do not touch one another that is why my sensibilites are offended by those things you tell me about mmating
nevertheless i am interested in mmoulting i wish i could mmoult i amm too long inside this hard and heavy shell if i could get out, if it would break open, i would be free to grow a new and pretty shell mmade of shell with little holes that let in all the light
tell me mmore about your mmmmoulting, ageless dear
and i will tell you mmore about the sand now,
....the womman's house is half buried under sand, sand falls on the roof at night the sand pours down in streams it gets into the water jug the cooking pots it sticks to the perspiring bodies of the mman and the womman, at night they dig the sand away the walls are soft like wet biscuit, in the mmorning they sleep, they place towels over their faces or the sand will get into their eyes and mmouths and noses it does anyway, the rope ladder has been taken away, the mman cannot escape, he forms a plan....
do you like it ageless ?
till next time,
kobo clamm x
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Mating
dear kobo,,,,,,
thanks for starting the sand story clik,,,,,,i am hooked,,,,,what happens to the man,,,,,does he get away or do they mate or what happens is it a love story,,,,or suspense?,,,,,
even if there are no cobbles glop,,,,it doesn't matter,,,,there is all that sand,,,,,clikclik,,,,
i will start looking for the window sill i would but i don't know,,,,is it in the water?,,,,,it is hard for me to get out of the water,,,,
you ask me if i have a girlfriend i'm a lobster we don't have a girlfriend but we sometimes mate,,,,,,if we are lucky,,,gloop,,,we do not choose the girl lobster the girl lobster chooses us,,,,
she waits until she's going to moult and then ,,,,clik clik,,,oh,,,, she waits outside the door of the biggest lobster,,,,,,not me,,,,,and wafts her perfume into his den,,,, then they box playfully and then she goes inside,,,,,,,, i'll tell you,,,,
she waits for hours and sometimes even days inside his den ,,,,,clik,,,,,she can only mate when she has moulted,,,,then she moults,,,,,, her shell comes off ,,,she is all soft,,,,,clikclik,,,,,soft,,,,,,,
and then i gently ,,,,,,,oh ,,,, i'm stopping ,,,,,,,i mean he,,,,
of course,,,,,, he could decide to eat her,,,, but he usually does,,,, clikclik,,,,,the gentlemanly thing,,,,,
after the mating she stays there in his den until her shell has hardened ,,,,,,then she goes away,,,,,
clik clik,,,, she's not my girlfriend,,,,,,
it is you ,,,,,please write more sand ,,,,,,,,dear kobo,,,,,
your boyfriend,,,,,,,
ageless x
thanks for starting the sand story clik,,,,,,i am hooked,,,,,what happens to the man,,,,,does he get away or do they mate or what happens is it a love story,,,,or suspense?,,,,,
even if there are no cobbles glop,,,,it doesn't matter,,,,there is all that sand,,,,,clikclik,,,,
i will start looking for the window sill i would but i don't know,,,,is it in the water?,,,,,it is hard for me to get out of the water,,,,
you ask me if i have a girlfriend i'm a lobster we don't have a girlfriend but we sometimes mate,,,,,,if we are lucky,,,gloop,,,we do not choose the girl lobster the girl lobster chooses us,,,,
she waits until she's going to moult and then ,,,,clik clik,,,oh,,,, she waits outside the door of the biggest lobster,,,,,,not me,,,,,and wafts her perfume into his den,,,, then they box playfully and then she goes inside,,,,,,,, i'll tell you,,,,
she waits for hours and sometimes even days inside his den ,,,,,clik,,,,,she can only mate when she has moulted,,,,then she moults,,,,,, her shell comes off ,,,she is all soft,,,,,clikclik,,,,,soft,,,,,,,
and then i gently ,,,,,,,oh ,,,, i'm stopping ,,,,,,,i mean he,,,,
of course,,,,,, he could decide to eat her,,,, but he usually does,,,, clikclik,,,,,the gentlemanly thing,,,,,
after the mating she stays there in his den until her shell has hardened ,,,,,,then she goes away,,,,,
clik clik,,,, she's not my girlfriend,,,,,,
it is you ,,,,,please write more sand ,,,,,,,,dear kobo,,,,,
your boyfriend,,,,,,,
ageless x
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Sand
dear ageless,
how funny you are you mmmake mme laugh it is a long time since anyone did that, i'm glad you would let me go and not eat me if you caught me if i was soft but you would have to find mme first,
so find mme.
i am pretty sure now i am on a window sill, you don't know what that is and that is funny too. let me tell you what a window sill is, imagine it as a kind of shelf,
on one side of the shelf is a chasm, or abyss, you know what that is don't you, at the bottom of the abyss is a hole. on the other side of the shelf is a window pane now that is a hard thing to explain.
a window pane is like a sheet of water that is solid, you can see through it but if you get up close to it your face will flatten and you have to stop.
perhaps that will help you to locate me i believe it will i hope so.
let me tell you now about the sand, sand is made of grains of sand they average one eighth of a mmillimetre in diameter, sand is not a liquid but you can sink in it and it can cover you up, mmy book is about hummans though
it is about an entommmmologist who is on holiday, he goes to an obscure seaside village the houses there are in deep holes filling up with sand the people have to dig the sand away each night. they trick the mman into going down a hole and then they take the rope ladder away so he is forced to help the womman dig....
no mmmore for today i will tell you mmmore if you like there are no cobbles in it but if you want i can put some in
please write back and tell mmme mmore about yourself do you have a girlfriend?
your friend
kobo clamm x
how funny you are you mmmake mme laugh it is a long time since anyone did that, i'm glad you would let me go and not eat me if you caught me if i was soft but you would have to find mme first,
so find mme.
i am pretty sure now i am on a window sill, you don't know what that is and that is funny too. let me tell you what a window sill is, imagine it as a kind of shelf,
on one side of the shelf is a chasm, or abyss, you know what that is don't you, at the bottom of the abyss is a hole. on the other side of the shelf is a window pane now that is a hard thing to explain.
a window pane is like a sheet of water that is solid, you can see through it but if you get up close to it your face will flatten and you have to stop.
perhaps that will help you to locate me i believe it will i hope so.
let me tell you now about the sand, sand is made of grains of sand they average one eighth of a mmillimetre in diameter, sand is not a liquid but you can sink in it and it can cover you up, mmy book is about hummans though
it is about an entommmmologist who is on holiday, he goes to an obscure seaside village the houses there are in deep holes filling up with sand the people have to dig the sand away each night. they trick the mman into going down a hole and then they take the rope ladder away so he is forced to help the womman dig....
no mmmore for today i will tell you mmmore if you like there are no cobbles in it but if you want i can put some in
please write back and tell mmme mmore about yourself do you have a girlfriend?
your friend
kobo clamm x
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Cobbles
dear kobo ,,,,,,
,,,,,i can't stop clikking,,,,clikclik,,,,,please excuse me,,,,thanks for your reply,,,,
i do like sand yes,,,,, i would like to hear the story of the woman in the dunes although i like cobbles better,,,,, do you know one about cobbles?,,,,
no never mind just tell me the story of the sand,,,,, i do like sand especially,,,,, apart from cobbles i like it best much better than gravel,,,,i do,,,,
the reason i clik clik,,,like cobbles is they are a better place to hide ,,,,, you would know,,,, being a cobble yourself,,,,,oh i don't mean to be rude,,,o sorry kobo,,,,,you are much more than a cobble,,,
a lobster can lurk in cobbles i am a lobster i like to lurk,,, it is safer from predators there,,,,i don't suppose you have any predators ,,,no of course not,,,,ha ha,,,,silly me,,,,,
but you would laugh kobo to know that if you were a living clam one of your predators might clikclik,,,,be me,,,,i would let you go though yes i would,,,,,
i don't know how i am going to find you,,,,,, what is a window sill,,,,,, i have been asking around ,,,,i don't have many friends to ask,,,,i asked a prawn it said nick off,,,,clikclik,,,,,
but i will not give up,,,,, yes i am a boy i'm glad you are a girl although of course it doesn't mean anything,,,,, i am looking forward to the story of the sand from your own lips,,,,mmm
your friend,
ageless xx
,,,,,i can't stop clikking,,,,clikclik,,,,,please excuse me,,,,thanks for your reply,,,,
i do like sand yes,,,,, i would like to hear the story of the woman in the dunes although i like cobbles better,,,,, do you know one about cobbles?,,,,
no never mind just tell me the story of the sand,,,,, i do like sand especially,,,,, apart from cobbles i like it best much better than gravel,,,,i do,,,,
the reason i clik clik,,,like cobbles is they are a better place to hide ,,,,, you would know,,,, being a cobble yourself,,,,,oh i don't mean to be rude,,,o sorry kobo,,,,,you are much more than a cobble,,,
a lobster can lurk in cobbles i am a lobster i like to lurk,,, it is safer from predators there,,,,i don't suppose you have any predators ,,,no of course not,,,,ha ha,,,,silly me,,,,,
but you would laugh kobo to know that if you were a living clam one of your predators might clikclik,,,,be me,,,,i would let you go though yes i would,,,,,
i don't know how i am going to find you,,,,,, what is a window sill,,,,,, i have been asking around ,,,,i don't have many friends to ask,,,,i asked a prawn it said nick off,,,,clikclik,,,,,
but i will not give up,,,,, yes i am a boy i'm glad you are a girl although of course it doesn't mean anything,,,,, i am looking forward to the story of the sand from your own lips,,,,mmm
your friend,
ageless xx
Monday, November 22, 2010
The Clam Disarmed
dear ageless, if i may call you ageless,
how touched i was by your commmmunication of yesterday yes indeed i would like to mmeet you unfortunately i do not know where i reside,
until quite recently i did know but now i feel that i am somewhere else. previously i was on a beach i had emmmmerged at last after countless eons from my rock i was enjoying the sun and life was looking up.
i can only think i must have been picked up and transported by supernatural mmmeans to another plane. i hope you can find mme i would like you to. it may not be another plane it mmmay just be a window sill.
thankyou for complimenting me about my writing i read a lot. you would read a lot if you were stuck inside a fossilised shell like mmme. i do not have a pen name but you have made me want one i intend to have one i will take the name of kobo do you like it?
that is because of a book i am reading at the present called woman of the dunes it is all about sand. it is by a japanese writer called kobo abe. it is good i bet you would like it i will tell you about it if you like sand.
well better go now but let us be friends let us try to meet i am a girl by the way i think you are a boy yes?
not that i mmmean anything by that,
your friend,
kobo clamm
ps you were right about the lips, mm.
how touched i was by your commmmunication of yesterday yes indeed i would like to mmeet you unfortunately i do not know where i reside,
until quite recently i did know but now i feel that i am somewhere else. previously i was on a beach i had emmmmerged at last after countless eons from my rock i was enjoying the sun and life was looking up.
i can only think i must have been picked up and transported by supernatural mmmeans to another plane. i hope you can find mme i would like you to. it may not be another plane it mmmay just be a window sill.
thankyou for complimenting me about my writing i read a lot. you would read a lot if you were stuck inside a fossilised shell like mmme. i do not have a pen name but you have made me want one i intend to have one i will take the name of kobo do you like it?
that is because of a book i am reading at the present called woman of the dunes it is all about sand. it is by a japanese writer called kobo abe. it is good i bet you would like it i will tell you about it if you like sand.
well better go now but let us be friends let us try to meet i am a girl by the way i think you are a boy yes?
not that i mmmean anything by that,
your friend,
kobo clamm
ps you were right about the lips, mm.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
The Ageless Lobster
dear fossilised clam,,,,,,,
clikclik,,,,I just read what you wrote it moved me so, gulp,,,,,
i am that lobster you were so angry with for wishing i was you,,,,,,
now i have been thinking, gulpppp, ,,,,,thinking, that i'm quite glad i'm not you ha ha
no that was wrong of me, i did not mean ha ha, ,,,,,yes you moved me so,,,,,,,oh,,,,
you have a lovely way of writing more refined than me,,,,,,i can't stop cliking and producing commas,,,,,,it comes of having large unwieldy nippers,,,,,
i think i understand why you like the letter m,,,, you have a vague and distant memory of a time when you had moveable lips? mmm? a little joke ,,,,,, mmm?
would you like to meet we might clikclik,,,,,we might have many things to say, we might even team up what do you say,,,,,, together,,,we could pool our thoughts,,,,,,,where do you reside?
please answer soon,,,, your friend the ageless lobster,,,,,, clik gloop,,,,,, ps,,, do you have a pen name? i call myself the ageless lobster.
clikclik,,,,I just read what you wrote it moved me so, gulp,,,,,
i am that lobster you were so angry with for wishing i was you,,,,,,
now i have been thinking, gulpppp, ,,,,,thinking, that i'm quite glad i'm not you ha ha
no that was wrong of me, i did not mean ha ha, ,,,,,yes you moved me so,,,,,,,oh,,,,
you have a lovely way of writing more refined than me,,,,,,i can't stop cliking and producing commas,,,,,,it comes of having large unwieldy nippers,,,,,
i think i understand why you like the letter m,,,, you have a vague and distant memory of a time when you had moveable lips? mmm? a little joke ,,,,,, mmm?
would you like to meet we might clikclik,,,,,we might have many things to say, we might even team up what do you say,,,,,, together,,,we could pool our thoughts,,,,,,,where do you reside?
please answer soon,,,, your friend the ageless lobster,,,,,, clik gloop,,,,,, ps,,, do you have a pen name? i call myself the ageless lobster.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
The Fossilised Clam Begs to Differ
mmmmmso that's what he thinks does he. ppprp. he'd rather be a fossilised clammmmm, well i'm a fossilised clam.
let me tell you a bit about life as a fossilised clam mister lobster, it is hard and long and dull the life of a fossilised clammm.
i was once a fresh soft squishy clammm although i hardly rememmmmber. i lived inside my clammm shell it was made of clammshell. it was light.
i rolled around contentedly on the ocean floor doing what clammmmms do i can't even remmmmember what that was but i know things used to happen.
and then one day i found myself emmmbedded in a bed of silt i couldn't get free of the silt it was so heavy it got heavier and heavier. over centuries and eons it turned to stone under the sea.
i was really bored you just try it sommmmetimmmme mister lobster.
my shell protected me but i had zilch to eat. ppprp. and i couldn't mmmove.
it was a very long time before i noticed something happening to my shell bit by bit it was mmmmineralising yes that was what it did.
and as it mmmineralised it got heavier and heavier i suppose you think i wouldn't notice embedded in the rock but let me tell you yes i did. my optimistic view of life diminished.
time passes very slowly when you are a fossil, i would give anything to have your life mister lobster i would not fear a predator i would rejoice to think that i was soft enough to eat i would not fear the transmmmmogrifying fire. ppprp.
let me tell you a bit about life as a fossilised clam mister lobster, it is hard and long and dull the life of a fossilised clammm.
i was once a fresh soft squishy clammm although i hardly rememmmmber. i lived inside my clammm shell it was made of clammshell. it was light.
i rolled around contentedly on the ocean floor doing what clammmmms do i can't even remmmmember what that was but i know things used to happen.
and then one day i found myself emmmbedded in a bed of silt i couldn't get free of the silt it was so heavy it got heavier and heavier. over centuries and eons it turned to stone under the sea.
i was really bored you just try it sommmmetimmmme mister lobster.
my shell protected me but i had zilch to eat. ppprp. and i couldn't mmmove.
it was a very long time before i noticed something happening to my shell bit by bit it was mmmmineralising yes that was what it did.
and as it mmmineralised it got heavier and heavier i suppose you think i wouldn't notice embedded in the rock but let me tell you yes i did. my optimistic view of life diminished.
time passes very slowly when you are a fossil, i would give anything to have your life mister lobster i would not fear a predator i would rejoice to think that i was soft enough to eat i would not fear the transmmmmogrifying fire. ppprp.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Lobster Thoughts from the Sea Bed
clik clik,,,,,, a very lo-o-o-o-ng morning it is,,,, clik clik,,,,,, let me introduce myself i am a lobster and not a young lobster,,,, clik clik,,,,, oh my nippers,,, oh i've swallowed my teeth,,,, wait a minute,,,,,clik clik,,,,,,
that's better,,,,,,its not often a lobster can express his thoughts,,,,, i'm grateful ,,,,,, life for a lobster is very different from life for the likes of you,,,,,,,
we lobsters,,,,, we don't age like you ,,,,, we die by misadventure,,,,, clik clik,,,,,gloop,,,,, you could never understand how terrible it is,,,,,,,,,
we all have to die sometime,,,, you and we lobsters all have to die,,,,,,,but you live in the happy hope of one night dying,,,,, comfortably at home,,,,,, in your own downy bed,,,, gulppgloop,,,,,that is your best case scenario so to speak ,,,,,now,,,,, clik clik,,,,,imagine you are me,,,,,
i live my whole life knowing that my end will be a violent one ,,,,,,,, oh a violent one,,,, it's horrible to think of dying like a lobster like me ,,,oh,,,,
dreadful rumours abound in the lobster world,,,,, we think,,,,, we do not know ,,,,, we think that there are ways of dying even worse that being eaten by a predator,,,, gulppp,,, bit by bit,,,,,,,
sometimes we find,,,,, in pieces,,,,the carapaces of our fellows, turned bright red by some transmogrifying fire,,,,,,,,, their flesh all vanished,,,,,gone,,,,,,,ohh,,,,,gulp,,,,,clik,,,,,,
i wish i was a fossilised clam,,,
that's better,,,,,,its not often a lobster can express his thoughts,,,,, i'm grateful ,,,,,, life for a lobster is very different from life for the likes of you,,,,,,,
we lobsters,,,,, we don't age like you ,,,,, we die by misadventure,,,,, clik clik,,,,,gloop,,,,, you could never understand how terrible it is,,,,,,,,,
we all have to die sometime,,,, you and we lobsters all have to die,,,,,,,but you live in the happy hope of one night dying,,,,, comfortably at home,,,,,, in your own downy bed,,,, gulppgloop,,,,,that is your best case scenario so to speak ,,,,,now,,,,, clik clik,,,,,imagine you are me,,,,,
i live my whole life knowing that my end will be a violent one ,,,,,,,, oh a violent one,,,, it's horrible to think of dying like a lobster like me ,,,oh,,,,
dreadful rumours abound in the lobster world,,,,, we think,,,,, we do not know ,,,,, we think that there are ways of dying even worse that being eaten by a predator,,,, gulppp,,, bit by bit,,,,,,,
sometimes we find,,,,, in pieces,,,,the carapaces of our fellows, turned bright red by some transmogrifying fire,,,,,,,,, their flesh all vanished,,,,,gone,,,,,,,ohh,,,,,gulp,,,,,clik,,,,,,
i wish i was a fossilised clam,,,
Thursday, November 18, 2010
On Lobsters By Pliny and Me
First I'm going to write about the Aging of the Lobster:
They say the lobster shows no sign of aging. It just grows bigger and bigger. It doesn't become weaker and it never becomes infertile. Some people think there must be huge old 400 pound lobsters living at the bottom of the sea. Lobsters have to die of something. What they die of usually is being eaten. The bigger they are the more likely something will spot them and try to make them lunch. And this is called the balance of nature. Even a lobster contains the seeds of its own destruction.
Now Pliny the Elder will write about the Size, Uses and Transformations of the Lobster;
The lobster is a type of crab. Lobsters in the Indian Ocean grow up to six feet long. All fish in the Indian Ocean grow large because of the richness of the water. Whales attain a size of three acres in area, and sharks are often seen to be one hundred and fifty feet long. Eating lobster is a cure for snake bite. When crabs die in the drought-ridden sign of Cancer they are transformed into scorpions.
Next I shall write Some Interesting Facts About Lobsters:
The lobster eats up to one hundred types of animal, and even eats its own new-moulted shell. In captivity a lobster will eat another lobster, if the other lobster doesn't eat it first. A lobster will bury its food and eat it over several days. The lobster uses teeth located in its stomach. If attacked a lobster will shed its appendages and regenerate them later.
Finally Pliny the Elder will address the Decay of Morality Caused by the Produce of the Sea :
But why am I wasting my time on these trivia when Shellfish are the prime cause of the decay of morals and the adoption of an extravagant lifestyle? Indeed in all of Nature the sea is in many ways the most harmful to the stomach with its great variety of dishes and tasty fish! And even this pales into insignificance when we consider purple-fish and purple robes and pearls! As if it were not enough for the produce of the sea to be stuffed down our throats......
Unfortunately I must now cut Pliny off.
They say the lobster shows no sign of aging. It just grows bigger and bigger. It doesn't become weaker and it never becomes infertile. Some people think there must be huge old 400 pound lobsters living at the bottom of the sea. Lobsters have to die of something. What they die of usually is being eaten. The bigger they are the more likely something will spot them and try to make them lunch. And this is called the balance of nature. Even a lobster contains the seeds of its own destruction.
Now Pliny the Elder will write about the Size, Uses and Transformations of the Lobster;
The lobster is a type of crab. Lobsters in the Indian Ocean grow up to six feet long. All fish in the Indian Ocean grow large because of the richness of the water. Whales attain a size of three acres in area, and sharks are often seen to be one hundred and fifty feet long. Eating lobster is a cure for snake bite. When crabs die in the drought-ridden sign of Cancer they are transformed into scorpions.
Next I shall write Some Interesting Facts About Lobsters:
The lobster eats up to one hundred types of animal, and even eats its own new-moulted shell. In captivity a lobster will eat another lobster, if the other lobster doesn't eat it first. A lobster will bury its food and eat it over several days. The lobster uses teeth located in its stomach. If attacked a lobster will shed its appendages and regenerate them later.
Finally Pliny the Elder will address the Decay of Morality Caused by the Produce of the Sea :
But why am I wasting my time on these trivia when Shellfish are the prime cause of the decay of morals and the adoption of an extravagant lifestyle? Indeed in all of Nature the sea is in many ways the most harmful to the stomach with its great variety of dishes and tasty fish! And even this pales into insignificance when we consider purple-fish and purple robes and pearls! As if it were not enough for the produce of the sea to be stuffed down our throats......
Unfortunately I must now cut Pliny off.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Magic Things At The Beach
Yesterday it was. We were sitting on a low stone wall the three of us, looking towards the sea, the sea was far away. A man walked close to the edge in a northerly direction, he wore dark shorts and no top covering his portly belly, a full white beard bobbed up and down under his chin. We knew at once it must be father christmas.
At the star of greece we saw that an item on the menu came served with sea foam.
The sea at port willunga was the colour of something that one of us remembered eating. It was a boiled sweet. I asked if it was crystomint, he said it wasn't then he thought again and said that probably it was.
There was a place where part of the rocky reef looked like a giant hand. It had four fingers and a thumb that was why. It didn't point towards the sea no it didn't but it was oriented towards the sea the tips of the fingers were to seaward.
I found a treasure it was a fossilised clam. Not embedded in a rock this clam it was an entity a rock that used to be a clam. I picked it up my daughter said it must have looked into the face of the medusa. She thought there must still be a little clam inside she rattled it next to her ear she said she could hear something, but when I tried I couldn't.
I found another rock it was small and white. I carried it for fifty metres then I tossed it in the air. A man and a dog were looking I didn't know they were looking I wouldn't have done it if I knew. I would have done it later.
In the seaweed there was something small and red it was a rubber bung.
Also in the seaweed was a tiny orange crab it was dead I picked it up. It had not lived forever like they say the lobster does although that is not quite fair even a lobster can have an accident.
At the star of greece we saw that an item on the menu came served with sea foam.
The sea at port willunga was the colour of something that one of us remembered eating. It was a boiled sweet. I asked if it was crystomint, he said it wasn't then he thought again and said that probably it was.
There was a place where part of the rocky reef looked like a giant hand. It had four fingers and a thumb that was why. It didn't point towards the sea no it didn't but it was oriented towards the sea the tips of the fingers were to seaward.
I found a treasure it was a fossilised clam. Not embedded in a rock this clam it was an entity a rock that used to be a clam. I picked it up my daughter said it must have looked into the face of the medusa. She thought there must still be a little clam inside she rattled it next to her ear she said she could hear something, but when I tried I couldn't.
I found another rock it was small and white. I carried it for fifty metres then I tossed it in the air. A man and a dog were looking I didn't know they were looking I wouldn't have done it if I knew. I would have done it later.
In the seaweed there was something small and red it was a rubber bung.
Also in the seaweed was a tiny orange crab it was dead I picked it up. It had not lived forever like they say the lobster does although that is not quite fair even a lobster can have an accident.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Immortal
It leaves us in a state of uncertainty, said Pliny. As to the hats.
It does, I agreed. I wish I had something in writing.
It doesn't matter, said Pliny. We have learned something about the nature of evidence.
I suppose we have, I said. What is it?
It can't be trusted, said Pliny.
Sometimes it can, I said. I saw a film last night about Immortality. There is evidence that we might all be able to live longer.
What sort of evidence?
Scientific evidence. We have telomeres at the ends of our DNA, and every time our cells replicate they get shorter. When they get too short we start to unravel.
That is not evidence that we may all live longer.
No, wait. The people who live longer are people with longer telomeres, and the way to grow longer telomeres is to reduce stress and eat the right food.
There seems little point in knowing about the telomeres, since we've known for a long time that the way to live longer is to reduce stress and eat the right food.
I hadn't thought of that. Still it's better to know about telomeres than not, don't you think?
Of course, I was merely pointing out the obvious. I myself have no interest in living longer. I know I shall die in 79AD. I have it in writing.
Monday, November 15, 2010
The Superiority of Colour
Pliny the Elder glanced across at my sketch of the two Beta Sigma Phi ladies.
A pity it's not in colour, he remarked. I would love to know the colour of the suiting of the one with golden shoes.
How funny you should say so, I replied. Because I happen to know that it was bright red.
Don't tell me you remember, said Pliny, surprised.
No, I looked at my old diary from November 2004, and found the entry for that day. It seems my notebook sketch was merely practice for a detailed colour sketch. It's funny, though....
What's funny?
In the diary, they're wearing hats.
What sort of hats?
I'll show you.
I went to find the diary. I found it. I brought it over to Pliny. I opened it. I showed him the ladies with the hats.
Why have you given them hats? asked Pliny. They didn't have hats in the notebook. Did they wear hats, or didn't they?
I really don't remember, I said. But let us be logical.
How? asked Pliny.
Let us look at the notebook again, I said, and determine whether what looks like hair could be hats.
I went to find the notebook. I found it. I brought it over to Pliny. I opened it. I showed him the ladies with the disputed head toppings.
That one, said Pliny, pointing to the tall one, is definitely not wearing a hat. Now let us examine the other one.
He peered closely at the other Beta Sigma Phi.
Her head ends in two distinct points, he concluded. I am willing to acknowledge that may suggest a hat.
Right, I said. Where does that leave us?
A pity it's not in colour, he remarked. I would love to know the colour of the suiting of the one with golden shoes.
How funny you should say so, I replied. Because I happen to know that it was bright red.
Don't tell me you remember, said Pliny, surprised.
No, I looked at my old diary from November 2004, and found the entry for that day. It seems my notebook sketch was merely practice for a detailed colour sketch. It's funny, though....
What's funny?
In the diary, they're wearing hats.
What sort of hats?
I'll show you.
I went to find the diary. I found it. I brought it over to Pliny. I opened it. I showed him the ladies with the hats.
Why have you given them hats? asked Pliny. They didn't have hats in the notebook. Did they wear hats, or didn't they?
I really don't remember, I said. But let us be logical.
How? asked Pliny.
Let us look at the notebook again, I said, and determine whether what looks like hair could be hats.
I went to find the notebook. I found it. I brought it over to Pliny. I opened it. I showed him the ladies with the disputed head toppings.
That one, said Pliny, pointing to the tall one, is definitely not wearing a hat. Now let us examine the other one.
He peered closely at the other Beta Sigma Phi.
Her head ends in two distinct points, he concluded. I am willing to acknowledge that may suggest a hat.
Right, I said. Where does that leave us?
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Puma In Puma Out
How fortunate that you keep a notebook in which to make sketches, said Pliny the Elder. But I am more intrigued to know why you were sketching a puma.
Oh, I said, it wasn't a real puma.
May I see? asked Pliny.
No, I don't want you to see, I replied. They're three increasingly bad attempts at drawing a puma.
What possessed you? asked Pliny.
I'd been to the Art Gallery, I said. In 2004. It was an installation. A stuffed puma. Oh, alright, you can see my pumas.
Goodness , said Pliny. You really have no idea of how to draw an animal. .
I know, I said. I would have done better if the puma was in front of me, but I tried to recollect it after I got home.
They really are very, very bad, said Pliny. You're right, each attempt is worse than the one before. Ha ha, look at the last one where you tried to draw it from behind! And tell me, was the puma leaping towards a mirror?
It was a long time ago, I said. I don't think it was a mirror but a picture of a puma in a cage. Or a video of a puma in a cage.
Puma In Puma Out, said Pliny.
What? I said.
Puma In Puma Out, he said. That's what you've written underneath. What does it mean?
It was the title of the installation, I said. It means one of the pumas is in, and one is out.
But they're both in, said Pliny. In the sense that one is in a cage, and the other is in the Art Gallery.
You could equally say they're both out, I replied. In the sense that one is out of a cage, and the other is out of the Art Gallery.
What an interesting discussion we're having, said Pliny. I do like modern art.
So do I, I said.
Oh, I said, it wasn't a real puma.
May I see? asked Pliny.
No, I don't want you to see, I replied. They're three increasingly bad attempts at drawing a puma.
What possessed you? asked Pliny.
I'd been to the Art Gallery, I said. In 2004. It was an installation. A stuffed puma. Oh, alright, you can see my pumas.
Goodness , said Pliny. You really have no idea of how to draw an animal. .
I know, I said. I would have done better if the puma was in front of me, but I tried to recollect it after I got home.
They really are very, very bad, said Pliny. You're right, each attempt is worse than the one before. Ha ha, look at the last one where you tried to draw it from behind! And tell me, was the puma leaping towards a mirror?
It was a long time ago, I said. I don't think it was a mirror but a picture of a puma in a cage. Or a video of a puma in a cage.
Puma In Puma Out, said Pliny.
What? I said.
Puma In Puma Out, he said. That's what you've written underneath. What does it mean?
It was the title of the installation, I said. It means one of the pumas is in, and one is out.
But they're both in, said Pliny. In the sense that one is in a cage, and the other is in the Art Gallery.
You could equally say they're both out, I replied. In the sense that one is out of a cage, and the other is out of the Art Gallery.
What an interesting discussion we're having, said Pliny. I do like modern art.
So do I, I said.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Glory Days of Beta Sigma Phi
The prize giving was all over in seconds. Three glum adjudicators and a Beta Sigma Phi called Judy. No opportunity for Judy to make a speech, just hand over the cheques in a hurry. A far cry from the glory days of Beta Sigma Phi.
I remember them.
I have an old paper notebook made from discarded notepaper. Not by me, it was a gift from someone. I use it for drawing sketches with a blue or black pen. Some of the sketches are bad, for example my three attempts to draw a puma. But in November 2004 I drew the two Beta Sigma Phis who presented the prizes at the Lunch Hour Competition.
Didn't I say these were the glory days? Yes, there were two of them. They were of a certain age. Each one carried a capacious handbag. One was tall and thin, with short straight hair, and wore a calf length skirt, a shapeless jacket and sensible shoes. Her job was to produce the cheques from her capacious handbag and hand them to the other one as required. The other Beta Sigma Phi was dumpy, with short wavy hair that formed peaks. She wore a wide pleated skirt and a shapeless jacket, and carried her capacious handbag in her left hand. She clutched a large white folder in her right. She also wore, according to my sketch, an enormous pair of shimmering golden shoes. As the dominant Beta Sigma Phi, she made the speech, before presenting the cheques while the other one stood back respectfully. All was right with the world in 2004.
I also made a sketch of the winner, who I don't remember at all. She must have been a singer, who had got herself up in costume. She is wearing a long baggy skirt, a long-sleeved high-necked blouse and big flat shoes. Her hair is done up in an elaborate bun. Above her head I've drawn several musical notes, and the three words: Ha Ha Ha.
I remember them.
I have an old paper notebook made from discarded notepaper. Not by me, it was a gift from someone. I use it for drawing sketches with a blue or black pen. Some of the sketches are bad, for example my three attempts to draw a puma. But in November 2004 I drew the two Beta Sigma Phis who presented the prizes at the Lunch Hour Competition.
Didn't I say these were the glory days? Yes, there were two of them. They were of a certain age. Each one carried a capacious handbag. One was tall and thin, with short straight hair, and wore a calf length skirt, a shapeless jacket and sensible shoes. Her job was to produce the cheques from her capacious handbag and hand them to the other one as required. The other Beta Sigma Phi was dumpy, with short wavy hair that formed peaks. She wore a wide pleated skirt and a shapeless jacket, and carried her capacious handbag in her left hand. She clutched a large white folder in her right. She also wore, according to my sketch, an enormous pair of shimmering golden shoes. As the dominant Beta Sigma Phi, she made the speech, before presenting the cheques while the other one stood back respectfully. All was right with the world in 2004.
I also made a sketch of the winner, who I don't remember at all. She must have been a singer, who had got herself up in costume. She is wearing a long baggy skirt, a long-sleeved high-necked blouse and big flat shoes. Her hair is done up in an elaborate bun. Above her head I've drawn several musical notes, and the three words: Ha Ha Ha.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Beta Sigma Phi's Philosophy
It was the last Lunch Hour Concert of the year. This always takes the form of a competition between four top students at the Conservatorium. This year it was two pianos, a cello and a flute.
The first and second prizes are donated by Beta Sigma Phi, a group of ladies with eighteen hundred dollars to spare. The winner gets twelve hundred dollars and the runner up gets six. The two finalist prizes are donated by the Elder Conservatorium and are worth three hundred dollars each.
By this you can see that the Elder Conservatorium doesn't really like Beta Sigma Phi's philosophy. They could save a hundred and fifty dollars by continuing the diminishment of prize money, but they don't.
This year I thought I'd picked the winner. It was the flute girl. She walked on stage wearing an unbecoming dress. It was long and shiny and several shades of purple, and was gathered unnaturally at the front. Her hair was brown and crinkly, and flat on top. She wore glasses, and carried a flute.
Now this is all very well you are thinking, but the competition is not about looks.
I know.
My reason for mentioning looks is that by the end of her two pieces I was of a different opinion, and thought her hair and dress were quite delightful. Any one who can work that sort of transformation with a flute deserves to win .
But no. My flute girl only got three hundred dollars.
The first and second prizes are donated by Beta Sigma Phi, a group of ladies with eighteen hundred dollars to spare. The winner gets twelve hundred dollars and the runner up gets six. The two finalist prizes are donated by the Elder Conservatorium and are worth three hundred dollars each.
By this you can see that the Elder Conservatorium doesn't really like Beta Sigma Phi's philosophy. They could save a hundred and fifty dollars by continuing the diminishment of prize money, but they don't.
This year I thought I'd picked the winner. It was the flute girl. She walked on stage wearing an unbecoming dress. It was long and shiny and several shades of purple, and was gathered unnaturally at the front. Her hair was brown and crinkly, and flat on top. She wore glasses, and carried a flute.
Now this is all very well you are thinking, but the competition is not about looks.
I know.
My reason for mentioning looks is that by the end of her two pieces I was of a different opinion, and thought her hair and dress were quite delightful. Any one who can work that sort of transformation with a flute deserves to win .
But no. My flute girl only got three hundred dollars.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Lets We Forget
Generally my pineapples are a conservative lot. Imagine my surprise when I saw this week's pineapple turn up for his photo shoot with a paper medal bearing the words LETS WE FORGET.
What's this, Pineapple? I said. Can't you spell?
Course I can, said Pineapple flippantly. I'm protesting that's all.
What do you have to protest about? I asked.
All this Remembrancing, said the Pineapple. Remembrancing the War. All this Gratitude. We Pineapples are sick of it.
Don't you feel grateful to the soldiers who sacrificed their lives so that you could be free? I asked, astonished.
No, said the Pineapple. We're Pineapples, what freedom have we got? We always end up getting eaten.
That's quite true, I admitted. I hadn't thought of that. But at least you enjoy free and fair elections.
The Pineapple was taken aback.
That's not much, he muttered.
And you can join a local library and borrow books for nothing, I persisted. I remember a colleague of yours, the Intellectual Pineapple, who was very taken with the novels of Victor Hugo.
Hmm, said the Pineapple. Was he?
Yes, I said. He was a very soft-hearted Pineapple. I was fond of him.
Are you fond of me? asked the Pineapple.
It's harder to become fond of a Politically Incorrect Pineapple, I said.
What if, said the Politically Incorrect Pineapple, I was to say that I couldn't spell?
What's this, Pineapple? I said. Can't you spell?
Course I can, said Pineapple flippantly. I'm protesting that's all.
What do you have to protest about? I asked.
All this Remembrancing, said the Pineapple. Remembrancing the War. All this Gratitude. We Pineapples are sick of it.
Don't you feel grateful to the soldiers who sacrificed their lives so that you could be free? I asked, astonished.
No, said the Pineapple. We're Pineapples, what freedom have we got? We always end up getting eaten.
That's quite true, I admitted. I hadn't thought of that. But at least you enjoy free and fair elections.
The Pineapple was taken aback.
That's not much, he muttered.
And you can join a local library and borrow books for nothing, I persisted. I remember a colleague of yours, the Intellectual Pineapple, who was very taken with the novels of Victor Hugo.
Hmm, said the Pineapple. Was he?
Yes, I said. He was a very soft-hearted Pineapple. I was fond of him.
Are you fond of me? asked the Pineapple.
It's harder to become fond of a Politically Incorrect Pineapple, I said.
What if, said the Politically Incorrect Pineapple, I was to say that I couldn't spell?
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Famous Slit Experiment
I have been thinking about your elderly couple of electrons, entering the lecture theatre via one of two doors, I said to Pliny. And it reminds me of the famous Slit Experiment in Quantum Mechanics.
Ah, said Pliny, I know the experiment you mean. When electrons are fired at a screen through one slit they behave like particles, but when they are fired through two slits they behave like waves.
That is the one, I said. You didn't happen to observe whether the elderly couple came in both doors at once, did you?
No, said Pliny, more's the pity. I wasn't looking at the other door.
What a shame, I said. But of course if you had been you would not have noticed anything untoward. The rest of the famous Slit Experiment involves an observer observing one of the slits. And the amazing thing is that when there is an observer, the particles revert to behaving like particles again.
That is not the amazing thing, said Pliny. The amazing thing is how, when you are not watching, they do not.
True, I said. Did you at any point stop watching?
Almost at once, said Pliny. Because the lecture was so interesting.
What interests me is that if the elderly couple had entered unobserved they could well have entered by both doors, like waves, I said. And then of course they would have been able to occupy multiple seats.
Good heavens, said Pliny. Now that I recall, the lecture theatre did seem to contain an inordinate number of them.
Ah, said Pliny, I know the experiment you mean. When electrons are fired at a screen through one slit they behave like particles, but when they are fired through two slits they behave like waves.
That is the one, I said. You didn't happen to observe whether the elderly couple came in both doors at once, did you?
No, said Pliny, more's the pity. I wasn't looking at the other door.
What a shame, I said. But of course if you had been you would not have noticed anything untoward. The rest of the famous Slit Experiment involves an observer observing one of the slits. And the amazing thing is that when there is an observer, the particles revert to behaving like particles again.
That is not the amazing thing, said Pliny. The amazing thing is how, when you are not watching, they do not.
True, I said. Did you at any point stop watching?
Almost at once, said Pliny. Because the lecture was so interesting.
What interests me is that if the elderly couple had entered unobserved they could well have entered by both doors, like waves, I said. And then of course they would have been able to occupy multiple seats.
Good heavens, said Pliny. Now that I recall, the lecture theatre did seem to contain an inordinate number of them.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Quantum Mechanics
What impossible things you get up to when I am not looking, said Pliny the Elder. RAT DIV-A indeed! Kung Fu shoes! Osoto-gari!
You should pay more attention, I said. They are not such impossible things.
Perhaps not, said Pliny, I am reminded of quantum mechanics. I attended a lecture last night on subatomic particles, and learned that scientists believe electrons behave in just such a way.
What way? I asked.
In this way, that when they are unobserved they are capable of doing impossible things.
What sort of impossible things? I asked.
No one knows, said Pliny. Because they are unobserved.
That doesn't make sense, I scoffed.
That is what I thought, said Pliny, but we were presented with several examples. The first being this: an elderly couple arrived several minutes late to the lecture. They had been orbiting around outside and suddenly decided to come in. It struck me, and doubtless the rest of us, that the couple could be likened to electrons and that we inside had no way of predicting by which of the two doors they would choose to enter.
That makes sense, I agreed. What else?
This one is good, said Pliny. The professor had a series of slides which he projected on to a screen. The tops of all his slides were missing. Thus we were unable to observe some crucial pieces of information. For example, the name of Ernest Rutherford, so that we did not know who it was that discovered the atom was not the basic component of matter, and the words inside the speech bubble of a cartoon cow, which made the joke about the uncertainty principle completely incomprehensible.
Ah, I said. I see. But wasn't the lecturer a physics professor? Was he incapable of adjusting his slides?
I wondered about that, said Pliny. He had been a Chief Scientist, too, in an overseas country, for some unobservable length of time.
You should pay more attention, I said. They are not such impossible things.
Perhaps not, said Pliny, I am reminded of quantum mechanics. I attended a lecture last night on subatomic particles, and learned that scientists believe electrons behave in just such a way.
What way? I asked.
In this way, that when they are unobserved they are capable of doing impossible things.
What sort of impossible things? I asked.
No one knows, said Pliny. Because they are unobserved.
That doesn't make sense, I scoffed.
That is what I thought, said Pliny, but we were presented with several examples. The first being this: an elderly couple arrived several minutes late to the lecture. They had been orbiting around outside and suddenly decided to come in. It struck me, and doubtless the rest of us, that the couple could be likened to electrons and that we inside had no way of predicting by which of the two doors they would choose to enter.
That makes sense, I agreed. What else?
This one is good, said Pliny. The professor had a series of slides which he projected on to a screen. The tops of all his slides were missing. Thus we were unable to observe some crucial pieces of information. For example, the name of Ernest Rutherford, so that we did not know who it was that discovered the atom was not the basic component of matter, and the words inside the speech bubble of a cartoon cow, which made the joke about the uncertainty principle completely incomprehensible.
Ah, I said. I see. But wasn't the lecturer a physics professor? Was he incapable of adjusting his slides?
I wondered about that, said Pliny. He had been a Chief Scientist, too, in an overseas country, for some unobservable length of time.
Monday, November 8, 2010
The Feiyue Shoes
RAT DIV-A was thinking about her next project, and what it would be.
What will it be? she thought. It has to be random.
That morning she'd received in the mail a pair of new Feiyue shoes which she'd purchased on eBay. They were a half size too large, but she'd decided to keep them, and lace them up tight. Feiyue shoes are the preferred shoes of Shaolin Monks and Masters. RAT DIV-A was not one of those.
Nevertheless, years ago she had joined in some judo classes, so she knew how to do judo moves. She remembered one move in particular. The move was OSOTO-GARI.
RAT DIV-A was pleased she remembered Osoto-gari. It was funny how she only remembered that one. Perhaps it was the only one she had successfully learned how to do. You grabbed your opponent's clothing, and jerked them off balance, at the same time tripping them up with a swift kick behind their nearest leg, sending them sprawling to the floor. You got points for doing it too.
What I shall do, thought RAT DIV-A, is practice Osoto-gari in my new Feiyue shoes. When I have it right, I'll video my foot moves in the garden.
She practised in front of a mirror. She made the sounds shhht, shhht, so that the moves would seem crisper. She became expert at the moves.
She went out into the garden, and stood on the grass in the shade of a pencil pine.
Shhht, shhht, she tripped up the invisible opponent. It was all over in two seconds flat.
RAT DIV-A went back inside and watched her new video. It was short alright, but she was worried that it seemed too professional and slick. And she seemed to have learned how to control
the record button.
I must watch that next time, she said.
Then she brightened. At least her feet hadn't looked all that big.
What will it be? she thought. It has to be random.
That morning she'd received in the mail a pair of new Feiyue shoes which she'd purchased on eBay. They were a half size too large, but she'd decided to keep them, and lace them up tight. Feiyue shoes are the preferred shoes of Shaolin Monks and Masters. RAT DIV-A was not one of those.
Nevertheless, years ago she had joined in some judo classes, so she knew how to do judo moves. She remembered one move in particular. The move was OSOTO-GARI.
RAT DIV-A was pleased she remembered Osoto-gari. It was funny how she only remembered that one. Perhaps it was the only one she had successfully learned how to do. You grabbed your opponent's clothing, and jerked them off balance, at the same time tripping them up with a swift kick behind their nearest leg, sending them sprawling to the floor. You got points for doing it too.
What I shall do, thought RAT DIV-A, is practice Osoto-gari in my new Feiyue shoes. When I have it right, I'll video my foot moves in the garden.
She practised in front of a mirror. She made the sounds shhht, shhht, so that the moves would seem crisper. She became expert at the moves.
She went out into the garden, and stood on the grass in the shade of a pencil pine.
Shhht, shhht, she tripped up the invisible opponent. It was all over in two seconds flat.
RAT DIV-A went back inside and watched her new video. It was short alright, but she was worried that it seemed too professional and slick. And she seemed to have learned how to control
the record button.
I must watch that next time, she said.
Then she brightened. At least her feet hadn't looked all that big.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Webbers at the Beach
Virginia: RAT DIV-A, welcome back to Artscape.
Me : Thanks Virginia, it's very nice to be back.
Virginia: I want to talk about your video "Webbers at the Beach". This marked a turning point for you in a way. Would you like to talk us through it?
Me: Do you mean it was a turning point because it was longer?
Virginia: Yes. Why was it longer?
Me: You might be surprised to know it was by accident. I was at the beach with my family and I noticed that the sea and sky were both remarkable shades of blue. I decided to make a three-second video by pointing my camera at the sea and pressing record.
Virginia: But you weren't sure you were actually recording anything, were you?
Me; No, I wasn't. I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't see the little recording icon. I had to guess. So I pointed the camera at a wave for what I thought was about three seconds, then I walked over to my daughter and said......
Virginia: You said, " Does that look like the video camera one to you?" And your daughter answered "Yes".
Me: I'm flattered you remember.
Virginia: How could I forget? And as we hear these words we see your husband's legs walk rapidly towards the water, then we swing over the sand to your daughter's shoe, followed by a quick upswing to a purple sky with a vertical streak of sunglare, and end on a one second shot of your husband standing in a purple sea.
Me: Yes and it was all quite unplanned after the first three seconds. It went on for a full fourteen seconds. I had no idea it was still recording. You see I was under the impression that my camera would only record for three seconds. And I still don't know why it stopped at fourteen.
Virginia: That's what makes it so priceless of course. Well, what's next for RAT DIV-A ? Are you planning a new video?
Me: Well you know, I have to be wary of plans. I really need to guard against, for example, learning how the record button on my camera actually works. The more often I use it the more I inadvertently learn. But naturally, I do try very hard not to absorb anything.
Virginia: Well, RAT DIV-A, good luck with that. I'm sure you have no need to worry. Thank you for sharing your insights with us, and we look forward to seeing a lot more of your wonderful work in the future.
Me: Thanks Virginia,
Me : Thanks Virginia, it's very nice to be back.
Virginia: I want to talk about your video "Webbers at the Beach". This marked a turning point for you in a way. Would you like to talk us through it?
Me: Do you mean it was a turning point because it was longer?
Virginia: Yes. Why was it longer?
Me: You might be surprised to know it was by accident. I was at the beach with my family and I noticed that the sea and sky were both remarkable shades of blue. I decided to make a three-second video by pointing my camera at the sea and pressing record.
Virginia: But you weren't sure you were actually recording anything, were you?
Me; No, I wasn't. I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't see the little recording icon. I had to guess. So I pointed the camera at a wave for what I thought was about three seconds, then I walked over to my daughter and said......
Virginia: You said, " Does that look like the video camera one to you?" And your daughter answered "Yes".
Me: I'm flattered you remember.
Virginia: How could I forget? And as we hear these words we see your husband's legs walk rapidly towards the water, then we swing over the sand to your daughter's shoe, followed by a quick upswing to a purple sky with a vertical streak of sunglare, and end on a one second shot of your husband standing in a purple sea.
Me: Yes and it was all quite unplanned after the first three seconds. It went on for a full fourteen seconds. I had no idea it was still recording. You see I was under the impression that my camera would only record for three seconds. And I still don't know why it stopped at fourteen.
Virginia: That's what makes it so priceless of course. Well, what's next for RAT DIV-A ? Are you planning a new video?
Me: Well you know, I have to be wary of plans. I really need to guard against, for example, learning how the record button on my camera actually works. The more often I use it the more I inadvertently learn. But naturally, I do try very hard not to absorb anything.
Virginia: Well, RAT DIV-A, good luck with that. I'm sure you have no need to worry. Thank you for sharing your insights with us, and we look forward to seeing a lot more of your wonderful work in the future.
Me: Thanks Virginia,
Saturday, November 6, 2010
RAT DIV-A
Virginia: RAT DIV-A, Welcome to Artscape
Me: Thanks Virginia.
Virginia: Your career as a video artist has taken off recently. Tell us how you got started.
Me: Well, it was by accident really. I was visiting my sister's farm, and taking a few interior shots to show our mum. I pressed the record button by mistake in the bedroom. Later I realised I had a video of the bed.
Virginia: And what were your thoughts on that?
Me: I thought it was rather creepy.
Virginia: ( laughing ) It was. And what followed from that?
Me: Nothing. I forgot all about it. But some time later, it was Halloween, I recall, I was experimenting with some night shots of Koster's Kiln, and accidentally pressed the record button again.
Virginia: Tell us a bit about Koster's Kiln.
Me: It's just down the road from our house. It's an old kiln in the middle of a reserve and at night it's lit up by an orange spotlight.
Virginia: Ah yes, these are your famous spooky Koster's Kiln sideways videos.
Me: Yes. It's funny, I hadn't meant them to come out sideways. I rotated them on Easyshare but when I uploaded them to Facebook, they rotated back to sideways-on again.
Virginia: ( smiling) A serendipitous re-rotation.
Me : Absolutely. That was when my work first came to the attention of the reviewer from Video Cognoscenti.
Virginia: Yes, let me just quote from that first review : "Brilliantly short creepy videos in which nothing happens. Innovatively presented sideways. A sensational new talent emerges in video art." That was a pretty amazing time for you, I imagine.
Me: Yes it was. I took another look at them and realised that they really were quite creepy. But even then I didn't think that I would make a career of accidental videos. Nevertheless it was about that time that I started calling myself the RAT DIV-A.
Virginia: A very clever name. Now, your really big break came after the release of your fourteen second magnum opus, ''Webbers at the Beach". I'd like to talk with you about that at length, but unfortunately we're out of time. Will you come back on the next program so that we can continue this fascinating discussion?
Me: I certainly will, Virginia. I'm looking forward to it.
Me: Thanks Virginia.
Virginia: Your career as a video artist has taken off recently. Tell us how you got started.
Me: Well, it was by accident really. I was visiting my sister's farm, and taking a few interior shots to show our mum. I pressed the record button by mistake in the bedroom. Later I realised I had a video of the bed.
Virginia: And what were your thoughts on that?
Me: I thought it was rather creepy.
Virginia: ( laughing ) It was. And what followed from that?
Me: Nothing. I forgot all about it. But some time later, it was Halloween, I recall, I was experimenting with some night shots of Koster's Kiln, and accidentally pressed the record button again.
Virginia: Tell us a bit about Koster's Kiln.
Me: It's just down the road from our house. It's an old kiln in the middle of a reserve and at night it's lit up by an orange spotlight.
Virginia: Ah yes, these are your famous spooky Koster's Kiln sideways videos.
Me: Yes. It's funny, I hadn't meant them to come out sideways. I rotated them on Easyshare but when I uploaded them to Facebook, they rotated back to sideways-on again.
Virginia: ( smiling) A serendipitous re-rotation.
Me : Absolutely. That was when my work first came to the attention of the reviewer from Video Cognoscenti.
Virginia: Yes, let me just quote from that first review : "Brilliantly short creepy videos in which nothing happens. Innovatively presented sideways. A sensational new talent emerges in video art." That was a pretty amazing time for you, I imagine.
Me: Yes it was. I took another look at them and realised that they really were quite creepy. But even then I didn't think that I would make a career of accidental videos. Nevertheless it was about that time that I started calling myself the RAT DIV-A.
Virginia: A very clever name. Now, your really big break came after the release of your fourteen second magnum opus, ''Webbers at the Beach". I'd like to talk with you about that at length, but unfortunately we're out of time. Will you come back on the next program so that we can continue this fascinating discussion?
Me: I certainly will, Virginia. I'm looking forward to it.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Pastiche
Just give me a few minutes, said Belle et Bonne.
A few minutes! said Beckett. Is that all you think it takes to come up with a piece of highbrow art?
I am young, said Belle et Bonne. I write whatever comes into my head. Don't worry.
Done! she pronounced, after three minutes of solid typing. Would you all like to hear it?
And she began to read:
Part Two- A Romance.
Stop right there! said Beckett. A Romance! What the devil? I don't write Romance!
You do, said Belle and Bonne, and she went on reading:
It struck me suddenly that I had a choice. I was careering down a county lane on my bicycle not slowing although I knew there was a corner coming up. What if, I thought, although I am not the sort of person who generally thinks what if. What if, to speed up the story, I slow down? This may be the very action that prevents me from colliding with a woman who is riding her own bicycle on a trajectory towards me. It could be that, in the circumstances, we might stop, and greet one another. I might say, what might I say, what might I not say? I can be very charming when I like. And so can she. How beautiful she is. She is not of course wearing a hat. Her long brown hair will be escaping delightfully in curling tendrils, from a bun. We may then decide to change direction and travel togther to the nearest village, to have some lunch. She will smile and show me her white unbroken teeth.
A few minutes! said Beckett. Is that all you think it takes to come up with a piece of highbrow art?
I am young, said Belle et Bonne. I write whatever comes into my head. Don't worry.
Done! she pronounced, after three minutes of solid typing. Would you all like to hear it?
And she began to read:
Part Two- A Romance.
Stop right there! said Beckett. A Romance! What the devil? I don't write Romance!
You do, said Belle and Bonne, and she went on reading:
It struck me suddenly that I had a choice. I was careering down a county lane on my bicycle not slowing although I knew there was a corner coming up. What if, I thought, although I am not the sort of person who generally thinks what if. What if, to speed up the story, I slow down? This may be the very action that prevents me from colliding with a woman who is riding her own bicycle on a trajectory towards me. It could be that, in the circumstances, we might stop, and greet one another. I might say, what might I say, what might I not say? I can be very charming when I like. And so can she. How beautiful she is. She is not of course wearing a hat. Her long brown hair will be escaping delightfully in curling tendrils, from a bun. We may then decide to change direction and travel togther to the nearest village, to have some lunch. She will smile and show me her white unbroken teeth.
Well, what do you think?
Oh bravo! cried Simone. I love it! What do you think, Samuel?
Not bad, said Beckett, not bad at all, young Belle et Bonne. I have no objection to a well-made pastiche.
Nor I, said The VeloDrone. Let's all go out to lunch.
Yes, said Beckett, and I'll pay, he added, looking at Simone.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
The Saoi of Aosdana
A new story? I'm sure I can do that, said Samuel Beckett. I'm not a Saoi of Aosdana for nothing.
What's that? asked The VeloDrone. A type of biscuit?
No, said Beckett. It's an Irish title I was given in 1984, for achieving high distinction in the arts.
It means Wise One. It's why I wear this twist of gold around my neck.
Belle et Bonne looked unimpressed.
I knew it must be from the eighties, she remarked.
Beckett looked pained, and began to fiddle with his top button.
Anyway, said Belle et Bonne. I think it's pointless you writing the new story. You are so tied up in literature you think every word you write is precious. Look how you wouldn't even consider leaving out Simone's hat. I'll tell you what. I'll finish off the story for you.
What a good idea, said Simone. I'm all for that. Do you agree, Samuel?
Beckett looked miffed.
You win again, Simone, he said.
What's this? asked The VeloDrone.
Simone has thwarted me once before, said Beckett, darkly. In 1946 I sent a story to Sartre which he published in Les Temps Modernes. He didn't realise that it was only part one of the story. Simone refused to let him publish the second part,
Oh, why, Simone? asked The VeloDrone.
Because it would have made my little Sartre look foolish, said Simone. It has been my life's work to protect him.
Never mind all this boring ancient history! cried Belle et Bonne. Can I write part two of the story or not?
Beckett looked doubtful.
Do you think you can capture my style, Belle et Bonne? he asked.
At the drop of a hat, she replied.
What's that? asked The VeloDrone. A type of biscuit?
No, said Beckett. It's an Irish title I was given in 1984, for achieving high distinction in the arts.
It means Wise One. It's why I wear this twist of gold around my neck.
Belle et Bonne looked unimpressed.
I knew it must be from the eighties, she remarked.
Beckett looked pained, and began to fiddle with his top button.
Anyway, said Belle et Bonne. I think it's pointless you writing the new story. You are so tied up in literature you think every word you write is precious. Look how you wouldn't even consider leaving out Simone's hat. I'll tell you what. I'll finish off the story for you.
What a good idea, said Simone. I'm all for that. Do you agree, Samuel?
Beckett looked miffed.
You win again, Simone, he said.
What's this? asked The VeloDrone.
Simone has thwarted me once before, said Beckett, darkly. In 1946 I sent a story to Sartre which he published in Les Temps Modernes. He didn't realise that it was only part one of the story. Simone refused to let him publish the second part,
Oh, why, Simone? asked The VeloDrone.
Because it would have made my little Sartre look foolish, said Simone. It has been my life's work to protect him.
Never mind all this boring ancient history! cried Belle et Bonne. Can I write part two of the story or not?
Beckett looked doubtful.
Do you think you can capture my style, Belle et Bonne? he asked.
At the drop of a hat, she replied.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Recycling
Anything else? asked Beckett.
Yes, said Simone. The broken tooth. Anyone who sees through the orange hat will recognise it as mine. I propose you make a major alteration to the text.
Any suggestion as to what that might be?
Perhaps, said Simone, instead of knocking me off my bicycle and breaking my tooth, you could run over my little dog Teddy. The crowd would gather, angrily. And I ( who am not I, but the woman in the orange hat) would say, in your defence, This man has done me a favour, as I just happened to be taking Teddy to the vet to have him put down.
Oh, that's very good, said Belle et Bonne. I like that even better.
Thank you said Simone.
Thank me, said Samuel Beckett. That's straight out of my novel Molloy.
As to that, said Simone, the story of the broken tooth is straight out of my novel The Mandarins!
And she fixed Beckett with a glare.
Is this a stalemate? asked The VeloDrone. Where do we go from here?
I think we need a new story, said Belle et Bonne.
Yes, said Simone. The broken tooth. Anyone who sees through the orange hat will recognise it as mine. I propose you make a major alteration to the text.
Any suggestion as to what that might be?
Perhaps, said Simone, instead of knocking me off my bicycle and breaking my tooth, you could run over my little dog Teddy. The crowd would gather, angrily. And I ( who am not I, but the woman in the orange hat) would say, in your defence, This man has done me a favour, as I just happened to be taking Teddy to the vet to have him put down.
Oh, that's very good, said Belle et Bonne. I like that even better.
Thank you said Simone.
Thank me, said Samuel Beckett. That's straight out of my novel Molloy.
As to that, said Simone, the story of the broken tooth is straight out of my novel The Mandarins!
And she fixed Beckett with a glare.
Is this a stalemate? asked The VeloDrone. Where do we go from here?
I think we need a new story, said Belle et Bonne.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
What's It All About?
The phone rang. Belle et Bonne answered. It was Samuel Beckett.
Have you received the second part of my story? he asked.
Yes, said Belle et Bonne, but I must tell you that someone here is not pleased with it.
Your papa? asked Samuel Beckett, sounding surprised.
No, our friend Simone, said Belle et Bonne.
How can that be? It isn't published, is it?
It is, at least the first half is, and she has read the second. Would you like to speak to her?
No. I'll be there in five minutes! said Beckett.
Five minutes later he popped his head round the door.
Simone! he cried. I am sorry!
Samuel, said Simone, it's just too bad of you.
How can I make amends? asked Beckett.
You can re-write the second part, said Simone firmly. I strongly object to several things in it.
The first one being that I am readily identifiable by the description of my hat.
I shall change the hat, said Samuel. How would you like me to describe it?
I should like you not to describe it at all, said Simone, crossly.
The hat remains, for literary reasons, said Beckett. But I am willing to change its colour, and its shape.
Simone looked perplexed.
I know! said Belle et Bonne. You could make the hat orange. I always thought it would be nicer orange, she added.
Good gracious, why? asked Simone.
Because you wore it on the cover of The Mandarins, said Belle et Bonne.
That's good, said Samuel Beckett.
You are not thinking of describing it in terms of the fruit, I hope, said Simone.
What does it matter, if it is not your hat? asked Beckett.
Yes, chimed in The VeloDrone. Don't forget that it's no longer your hat.
If it's not mine, said Simone, then what is this all about?
Have you received the second part of my story? he asked.
Yes, said Belle et Bonne, but I must tell you that someone here is not pleased with it.
Your papa? asked Samuel Beckett, sounding surprised.
No, our friend Simone, said Belle et Bonne.
How can that be? It isn't published, is it?
It is, at least the first half is, and she has read the second. Would you like to speak to her?
No. I'll be there in five minutes! said Beckett.
Five minutes later he popped his head round the door.
Simone! he cried. I am sorry!
Samuel, said Simone, it's just too bad of you.
How can I make amends? asked Beckett.
You can re-write the second part, said Simone firmly. I strongly object to several things in it.
The first one being that I am readily identifiable by the description of my hat.
I shall change the hat, said Samuel. How would you like me to describe it?
I should like you not to describe it at all, said Simone, crossly.
The hat remains, for literary reasons, said Beckett. But I am willing to change its colour, and its shape.
Simone looked perplexed.
I know! said Belle et Bonne. You could make the hat orange. I always thought it would be nicer orange, she added.
Good gracious, why? asked Simone.
Because you wore it on the cover of The Mandarins, said Belle et Bonne.
That's good, said Samuel Beckett.
You are not thinking of describing it in terms of the fruit, I hope, said Simone.
What does it matter, if it is not your hat? asked Beckett.
Yes, chimed in The VeloDrone. Don't forget that it's no longer your hat.
If it's not mine, said Simone, then what is this all about?
Monday, November 1, 2010
He Will Pay
Calm yourself, Simone! said The VeloDrone. Of course we will not publish it. You and I, we shall not even read it.
Oh yes we shall, said Simone, calming down at once. I most certainly wish to know what that man has written about me. Read it, Belle et Bonne.
Belle et Bonne began to read:
Sometimes I have a very clear memory of things that have happened. For example it was only yesterday I ran my bicycle into a woman who was rounding a bend in a country lane. The woman was riding a bicycle exactly like mine in all respects but both her feet were pedalling. She wore a black and white striped hat, rounded at the top, like a pixie......
You see, said Simone tartly.
I see, said The VeloDrone. Go on Belle et Bonne.
The woman tumbled off her bicycle. I was obliged to bring myself to a sudden halt in order to go to her aid, although I did not see how I could help when I had a stiff leg, and in the process I too landed in the road with my outer clothing all askew. A crowd gathered around us as if from nowhere.......
A lie, said Simone. There was no crowd.
All to the good, said the VeloDrone.
........I was composing a mitigating statement with the object of speaking aloud when the woman stood up and straightened her hat, saying some words the nature of which I have forgotten, but it was clear she had broken a tooth. Look, said someone in the crowd, she has broken a tooth and it is the fault of this man. The crowd took on a threatening visage. Do not worry about it, said the woman, in fact this man has done me a favour. The tooth in question was chipped already, and I had resigned myself to living with the deformity, being a woman of a certain age......
Belle et Bonne stopped reading and looked at Simone, who had turned an alarming shade of puce. Simone nodded at her to go on. She gabbled the final few words.
......but now I must visit the dentist !
Well, said Simone heavily, that at least is true. And it is Beckett who will pay.
Oh yes we shall, said Simone, calming down at once. I most certainly wish to know what that man has written about me. Read it, Belle et Bonne.
Belle et Bonne began to read:
Sometimes I have a very clear memory of things that have happened. For example it was only yesterday I ran my bicycle into a woman who was rounding a bend in a country lane. The woman was riding a bicycle exactly like mine in all respects but both her feet were pedalling. She wore a black and white striped hat, rounded at the top, like a pixie......
You see, said Simone tartly.
I see, said The VeloDrone. Go on Belle et Bonne.
The woman tumbled off her bicycle. I was obliged to bring myself to a sudden halt in order to go to her aid, although I did not see how I could help when I had a stiff leg, and in the process I too landed in the road with my outer clothing all askew. A crowd gathered around us as if from nowhere.......
A lie, said Simone. There was no crowd.
All to the good, said the VeloDrone.
........I was composing a mitigating statement with the object of speaking aloud when the woman stood up and straightened her hat, saying some words the nature of which I have forgotten, but it was clear she had broken a tooth. Look, said someone in the crowd, she has broken a tooth and it is the fault of this man. The crowd took on a threatening visage. Do not worry about it, said the woman, in fact this man has done me a favour. The tooth in question was chipped already, and I had resigned myself to living with the deformity, being a woman of a certain age......
Belle et Bonne stopped reading and looked at Simone, who had turned an alarming shade of puce. Simone nodded at her to go on. She gabbled the final few words.
......but now I must visit the dentist !
Well, said Simone heavily, that at least is true. And it is Beckett who will pay.
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