All One to a Fossilised Clam

Ageless turned up at seven, with pizza in a large cardboard box.

I thought you said chicken, said Kobo. And I thought you said six.

I did said Ageless, but they had run out of chickens, and then I had to run around everywhere looking for a decent alternative. I hope you like pizza, my dearest.

It is all one to me, said Kobo. I'm a fossilised clam. When are the fireworks?

Half past nine, said Ageless. We should get going.

We're coming too, said Lavender. Me and Baby Pierre.

No you're not, said Ageless. There's not enough food.

But Lavender was not the sort of person to take no for an answer. Soon the four of them were on the bus to Brighton.

It was hot in the bus and the pizza was smelly.

I'd better eat it, said Ageless. Before it goes off.

It was so unromantic. Kobo had tears in her eyes.

Here Aunty Kobo, have a hanky, said Lavender.

They got to the esplanade at twenty past nine. It was almost dark, but the sky above the horizon glowed amber. Children ran about on the remaining strip of beach wearing fluorescent pink and green necklaces, bangles and headbands. Some had strings of flashing lights wound about their bodies as well.

How beautiful, thought Kobo. Maybe the night will not be a dead loss after all.

Then the fireworks began....

Double Date

If you think, said Kobo, that I'm going to carry your drinks, you can think again, dear heart.

Only joking, said Ageless. Did you call me dear heart?

Yes I did, said Kobo. I have become fond of you now that I've seen you.

Thought you would, said Ageless. May I ask you a question?

I can't ride a bicycle, said Kobo, if that was the question.

No, that wasn't the question, said Ageless. Team Crustacean has no place for girls.

Girls! said Kobo.

Well, ladies, said Ageless.

LADIES! said Kobo.

What then? said Ageless.

Tch! said Kobo. What WAS the question?

Will you come out with me tonight, my beloved? asked Ageless.

Oh! said Kobo. Go out with you where?

It's New Year's Eve, said Ageless, There will be fireworks at the Brighton Jetty.

The beach! said Kobo, happily. Shall we run on the beach holding hands?

Whatever you like my sweetest, said Ageless, in honeyed tones.

Then the answer is YES, said Kobo.

See you at six, then, said Ageless. I'll bring chicken and salad and champagne.

Baby Pierre looked at Lavender.

She can't run on the beach holding hands with Ageless! said Lavender. WE were going to do that, her and me. I'm going as well.

You can't! said Baby Pierre. It's a date.

I can, said Lavender. And you can come with me. You'll be my date.

Yerk! No way! said Baby Pierre.

Team Crustacean

Ageless appeared in the doorway, gleaming. He was dressed in red lycra bike shorts and a red and white jersey.

Beloved! said Ageless.

Do you mean me? asked Kobo.

Of course you, said Ageless. How I've longed for this meeting.

Let me see you properly, said Kobo. Come closer. These eyes you sent me don't react well to glare.

I'm not glaring my darling, said Ageless. I am glowing with joy.

He moved closer. Kobo could see him in his full glory.

Why are you wearing bicycling clothes? she asked. I did not expect it.

But they suit me, said Ageless.

I don't know, said Kobo. Red is perhaps not your colour. I would have preferred blue, with your colouring.

Too late now, said Ageless with a shrug. I am going to enter the Tour Down Under. It's two weeks away. I am forming a team. Team Crustacean. I just need to sign up a few more crustaceans who ride.

Well, said Kobo, I am very impressd. Come here and give me a kiss.

Lavender and Baby Pierre goggled.

Ageless sashayed over to the window to give Kobo a kiss.

Scrape, scrape, scraaaaaape. The kiss was passionate, and scratchy.

Wooo! He's hot! whispered Lavender.

Told you, said Baby Pierre.

The kiss ended. Ageless spoke.

My dear Kobo, he said, would you do me the honour?

Of what? asked Kobo, blinking rapidly.

Watching me race, said Ageless. You could hand me my drinks.

Second Coming

Home at last! Kobo and Lavender were back on the window sill in the kitchen.

Hello Aunty Kobo, said Baby Pierre, ignoring his cousin. Did you have a nice time?

Yes I had a nice time, said Kobo. Thank you for asking.

I had a nice time too, said Lavender.

How were your eyes? asked Baby Pierre.

So so, said Kobo.

The reason I'm asking, said Baby Pierre, is that Ageless is here.

Here? said Kobo. Why is he here?

He's here to see you, said Baby Pierre. And for you to see him.

Where is he? asked Kobo, looking around, but failing to see a lobster.

Watching the cricket, said Baby Pierre. Shall I tell him you're here?

Wait, said Kobo.

Has he finished moulting? asked Lavender.

Yes, said Baby Pierre. He looks just like ......like a god!

Woo hoo! said Lavender. Send him in!

Actually, said Kobo, I'm quite busy.

No you're not, Aunty Kobo, said Lavender. Go get him, Baby Pierre.

Baby Pierre went into the lounge to fetch Ageless.

Sounds of creaking and shuffling were heard.

Lavender looked at Kobo.

Kobo looked anxious.

Don't worry Aunty Kobo. No way he'll look like a god, said Lavender.

It's not that, said Kobo. I think I WANT him to look like a god.

Well, said Lavender. Your eyes aren't too good. So he might.

Mama Mia

Right! said Lavender. Today we're going home.

Good, said Kobo. I've had enough adventures for a while.

Hee hee, laughed Lavender. You should have seen your face coming down the flume.

Actually said Kobo, I'm quite proud I did it.

That's good, said Lavender. But you did look funny wearing a rashie.

I'm a CLAM, said Kobo. Of course I looked funny. But rules are rules.

I wouldn't have put on a rashie just to obey some stupid RULES, said Lavender.

You couldn't anyway, said Kobo.

But if I could, said Lavender. I wouldn't have.

My theory is, said Kobo, that stupid rules should be obeyed to the letter.

What? Why? asked Lavender.

To keep the high moral ground, said Kobo. And your dignity. The lifeguard thanked me when she saw me again, as though I had done her a favour. Which arguably I had.

Or maybe you're just a big WUSS! said Lavender.

Oh, never mind, said Kobo. Hurry up and get into the suitcase.

Wait, I just want to say goodbye to Butterfly and Fish, said Lavender.

She looked for the children. They were watching Mama Mia on a dvd, mesmerised by the songs and missing all the innuendo.

Bye bye, Fish, said Lavender.

Fish looked up, presenting his Nutella-smeared face for a kiss.

Bye bye Butterfly, said Lavender.

But Butterfly had eyes only for Meryl Streep.

Down the Flume in a Rashie

Kobo had had an interesting morning.

Everyone was going to the Olympic Park. They were going to go swimming. Fish and Butterfly had brought their noodles. Fish had a blue one and Butterfly's was pink.

Their mummy took them into the change rooms and they came out in their swimsuits. Daddy was already in. The pool was not very deep but it had many splashy attractions. Water tipped onto people's heads from giant buckets. Curtains of water beat down relentlessly from a giant shower. Rapids swirled round special courses. A flume swept you down into a deep nose-unfriendly pool.

Fish and Butterfly were used to it. They floated on their noodles near mummy and daddy.

Kobo felt like a fish out of water except for one obvious fact.

She splashed about a bit. She rode down the rapids with Butterfly.

Excuse me, said a life guard, from the edge of the rapids. You are wearing the wrong sort of swimwear.

What? said Kobo.

I'll see you at the end, said the lifeguard.

Gosh! thought Kobo. What's wrong with my outfit?

The rules, said the life guard, at the end, state that you can only wear nylon or lycra.

Oh, fine, said Kobo, glad of an excuse to get out.

But mummy and daddy had seen what had happened.

Borrow my rashie, said mummy.

Oh, thank you, said Kobo.

She pulled on mummy's rashie.

Let's go down the flume! said mummy.

Okay, thought Kobo to herself. Take a deep breath and remember you are a fossilised clam, and a fossilised clam can do anything.

The Egyptian Trireme

It was the night after the day that was Christmas. Kobo was finally in bed, or rather, stretched out on a couch in the lounge. It had been a good day. She had woken up early and watched Fish and Butterfly open their presents. Fish's was a bike and Butterfly's was a Barbie. And that was just the beginning.

The family had then climbed up the Snail. After that they had cooked a turkey and eaten it outside on a silver tablecloth. As well as turkey they had eaten ham, and mashed potato and broccoli and carrots, followed by a trifle made by the great grandmother.

Great grandmother had once again been asked to tell the story of how she and her brother had found the little china Santa that sat in the middle of the trifle every year.

It was seventy years ago, said the great grandmother. We were on our bikes. It was my brother who found it.

Fish and Butterfly were not listening. Fish was doing a conga behind the table, and Butterfly was eating the custard.

After lunch the family had gone in two cars to a beach park, where the great grandmother had sat on the grass in the shade, looking down upon the exotic scene. Ladies were bathing in headscarves and mixed groups were passing round hookahs. Barbecue smoke blew across the park in the stiffening breeze.

For dinner the family had eaten prawns and salad and oysters. The great grandmother had been grateful there was leftover ham.

I haven't eaten prawns in years, said the great grandmother. As for oysters, pooh!

But now, it was bedtime, and Kobo was in bed. All was quiet except for the humming of the airconditioner and the snoring of one of the members of the family. All was dark except for a light drifting semi-brightly down the stairs.

She fell into a deep post-Christmas sleep.

BANG!! BANG!! and BANGGGG!!!!

Kobo woke up.

What the dickens was that??? she said out loud. ( But later she wondered whether she had actually said dickens ).

Nothing else happened.

Well, thought Kobo, if no one else is bothered I shall go back to sleep.

She went back to sleep.

In the morning it was pointed out to her that a large heavy metal framed papyrus drawing of an Egyptian trireme had fallen to the floor only inches behind her head.

Knowing a Lot About Fish

What happened to Sophie in the end, Aunty Kobo? asked Lavender, as they were sitting on an uncomfortable red and purple rubber verge at the Armoury Playground.

You won't believe it, said Kobo. She got married to a very old-fashioned man, tried to have a baby, couldn't, had a dream that her grandma told her to exhume her daddy and re-bury him in the Jewish sector, and when she did that, she had a baby.

Cripes! said Lavender.

There were a lot of loose ends, said Kobo. But that's French novels for you.

It's not that, said Lavender. Look at Fish!

Fish had climbed up a green rubber wall with orange footholds and was about to slide down the double slide.

Will he be alright? asked Kobo.

That's what we won't know until it's too late, said Lavender.

Fish slid down the slide perectly well until the bend at the bottom, then stopped suddenly because of his crocs.

He got off and lay on the grass face down.

Will he cry ? asked Kobo.

We don't know, said Lavender. Let's wait and see.

They stared at Fish. Fish got up. He walked over to an orange tunnel. He crawled inside.

Should we follow him? asked Kobo.

No said Lavender. It's best not to.

You know a lot about Fish, said Kobo.

Yes said Lavender.

Travel is my Passion

Lavender met Kobo at the door of the children's house in Sydney.

Woohoo! said Lavender. Aunty Kobo! Come in!

Nice place, said Kobo, impressed. Leafy suburb, winding pathways, Christmas lights, the scent of eucalyptus, Pity it's raining. House looks tidy too. Where's my room?

We're in the garage said Lavender, but don't worry. We may not have to sleep there. The bed pump needs recharging so our beds are flat as pancakes. We might sleep on couches in the lounge. How are the new eyes?

Baby Pierre is so ham-fisted, said Kobo. I'm sure he put them in upside down. But never mind, the brain quickly adjusts to these things. At the moment you look horizontal.

I AM horizontal, Aunty Kobo, said Lavender. This is how I look. Apart from that, what do you think ?

There's not a lot to you, said Kobo. Are you going to offer me a cup of tea?

Oh yes, Aunty Kobo. And dinner and everything. And you can watch the children have their bath, and read them a bedtime story. Then you can have a glass of wine.

This is the life, said Kobo. Travel is my passion. What shall we do tomorrow?

Tomorrow, said Lavender, we are going to the dentist, the hairdresser, Gloria Jean's coffee shop, the carwash, the camping shop, and the playground. Then we're going to watch a Wiggles DVD, and Baby Einstein.

Oh, said Kobo. Good.

She Looks Squirmy

Lavender was excited. Kobo was coming to Sydney! She wrote back at once, on the back of The Kiss.

dear aunty kobo (she wrote)
oh yes do come to sydney there is plenty of room. you can sleep in the garage with me. there are meant to be redbacks, but i haven't seen one.

that dumb baby pierre!!! playing the knife game!! what you need for the knife game is a knife and some fingers but he only has a knife.

don't let him use it for putting your eyes in aunty kobo.

now, turn over this postcard. hee hee! that's you kissing ageless!! look! it looks just like him !! it's picasso kissing his girlfriend jacqueline. picasso is 88 years old. and jacqueline looks squirmy i think. she thinks he's so famous so she will let him kiss her but yuck!!! well that's what i think aunty kobo what do you think? maybe you love him??? i don't know.

ooh! how disgusting of sophie to want to sleep with her ancient french teacher, how distinguished of him to say no. what a good daddy he would be. that's the sort of daddy i like. what happens next aunty kobo ??? you can tell me from your own lips when I see you in sydney oh i am so very excited we will run on the beach aunty kobo and everything.

see you soon love lavender xx

ps don't bring baby pierre !!!

But He Says No

Kobo was piqued by Lavender's letters. Should she put her eyes in? Could she go to Sydney? She asked Baby Pierre what he thought about it. She showed him Lavender's letters. His eyes popped when he read the letter about the knife game. That was not the part that Kobo had meant him to read. She replied to Lavender.

dear lavender (she wrote)
thank you for your letter explaining the knife gammmme. unfortunately baby pierre has read it. at first he would do nothing else but play the knife gammmme. he got a real knife frommm the knife block and stabbed and stabbed. luckily he has no fingers. if he had he would not have any left by now. anyway he will help mmme put mmy eyes in. i ammm thinking seriously about commming to visit you in sydney!!!

just think!!! baby pierre says the eyes mmight be cracked and stiff but if i don't mmmind he thinks they will be good. baby pierre keeps his ears open he says i can get a lift to sydney with the children's grandmmmmammma and grandpa they are going back for christmmmas. that mmmeans i will end up where you are!! i amm so excited. please write back and tell mmme what you think. write on the postcard of the kiss i want to see it. what's wrong with it?? why does it mmake you squirmy???

oh i forgot! you asked mmme about sophie. she was naughty to her mmmummy's new husband she wouldn't talk to himmm except only in the kitchen. she liked older mmen but she didn't like himmm. she likes her ancient french teacher. no he is not ancient, he teaches ancient french!! but he's mmuch older than her. she wants to go to bed with himm but he says no.

lots of love dear, fromm aunty kobo clamm

The Knife Game

Lavender replied on the back of a postcard of the Portrait of Dora Maar.

dear aunty kobo
i agree with you picasso is a hopeless painter. just look at what he made of dora maar. but even so you can tell she's very pretty. black green and purple hair and yellow skin, two noses and a smiling kissy mouth, red nails on the end of banana fingers, a geometric patterned green and purple tee shirt under an open black jacket and a red and black checked skirt.

oh aunty kobo i wish i could wear clothes like that

i wish i could wear clothes

the knife game you know what that is aunty kobo. you spread your fingers on the table and you stab between your fingers with a knife. you do it fast. one by one in all the spaces between the fingers. you can do it blindfold if you like. oh! it is so dangerous. dora did it in a restaurant and picasso saw her cut her fingers and he fell in love and she was pretty too that helped.

next time i will send you a postcard of the kiss. you will like the kiss you always dream of kissing ageless. don't think that baby pierre and i don't know. the kiss is like a picture of you and ageless kissing in real life. it makes me feel all squirmy yuck! but you will like it aunty kobo. so will he

well that is all for now from your niece lavender

ps i like the story of sophie aunty kobo. what did she do to drive her mummy's new husband away??? and what's wrong with her liking older men??? i like older men. does she like the guardian of the cemetery???

Le père éternel

Kobo liked getting postcards. But she thought this one from Lavender was offensive. She wrote back at once.

dear lavender this picasso is offensive!!! don't get mme wrong it is not the wommen running. no lavender it is the SAND!! i am a connoisseur of sand just ask ageless and sommething is very wrong with this it is not proper sand. you say you think it looks like concrete, mme i think it looks like a collapsing canvas tent. i don't know how picasso ever got fammmmous painting sand like that!!!

but oh how lovely it would be you and mmme running on the sand as long as it was proper sand i prommise you one day soon i will get mmy new eyes in but i have not been anywhere for a long timmmme lavender i mmight not even remmmemmmber how to run on anything. and we could not hold hands

now dear what was it you asked mme about sophie???

sophie goes back to the cemmmetery every summmer. now she is twenty years old and the old mman who is the guardian of the cemmetery is ten years older too. she still leaves mmystifying letters on her daddy's grave. they mmystify mme too. and she still has daddy issues. she drives her mummmmy's new husband away by very bad behavior. she doesn't have a boyfriend but she does like older mmen. the story is called le père éternel. do you think it is religious lavender or psychological???

please dear next timmmme send mme the postcard of dora mmmmaar does she have bleeding fingers that's what i want to know what is the knife gammmme and is she pretty????

affectionately

your curious aunty kobo clammmm xx

Not Very Good at Sand

Lavender was intrigued by Kobo's stories. She'd read Kobo's letter on the ferry heading into Circular Quay. She found the Art Gallery Of New South Wales in the Domain and went up the steps. Good heavens it was twenty five dollars to go in, and the ticket was timed! She decided not to buy a ticket. She would sneak inside.

All the pictures were hung too high up on the wall. Lavender was disappointed. She went to the Art Gallery Shop and bought some postcards. One was of Two Women Running on the Beach.

She sat down on a seat and wrote to Kobo.

dear aunty kobo (she wrote)

pooh!! all the picassos are too high i'm glad i didn't pay. do you like this postcard??? have a look. it is two women running on the beach. picasso loved the beach he associated it with freedom. i read that on a card. the women are seriously fat they are wearing short white dresses and their breasts have popped out. hee hee aunty kobo that's so funny. they look as if they don't know they look rude. they have long black hair streaming out behind them. they are holding hands together high up in the air. they look so happy aunty kobo why don't you get your new eyes in aunty kobo then we could run along the beach together beside the blue sea and the even bluer sky on sand that looks like concrete. i dont think picasso was very good at sand. what do you think aunty kobo??? i hope you like the postcard.

love from lavender

ps i have bought two more postcards the kiss and dora maar. i will send them to you one by one aunty kobo i bet you will like them

pps do you know why sophie knows the persons similar to the persons that were buried in the cemetery? maybe she is clairvoyant? maybe you are crap at french? hee hee aunty kobo only joking. ooh i sound like ageless sorry aunty koboxxx

.

A Person Very Similar

Kobo was delighted with this response from Lavender. It vindicated her decision not to help. She wrote back straight away.

dear lavender (she wrote)

be careful on the ferry dear remmemmber if you roll overboard you will sink like you know what. but i amm glad that you are going to explore sydney. i do have a favourite picasso if you mmean a piece of art and not his mummmy or another mmemmber of his family. mmrs picasso or baby picasso or uncle picasso. you do not mmean that do you. you mmean a picture mmade by pablo picasso himself??

mmy favourite is the portrait of dora mmaar. i think i saw a photo of it once. if you see it tell mme what it's like. dora mmaar was picasso's mmistress she used to play the knife gamme. she cut her fingers and her table playing the gamme. picasso kept her gloves. when they parted she cried so mmuch she needed crying tablets. crying tablets. think of that it mmakes you glad you are a stone.

well it mmakes mme glad. you are not a stone.

you asked mme to tell you mmore about sophie. lavender i amm not very good at french. i thought i was. but this story is defeating mme. sophie goes every year to the cemmetary to visit her daddy. she leaves a letter on his grave. there is an old mman there the guardian of the cemmetery. he reads the letter after she has gone. each time the letter is to a person very similar to the person who has been buried in the cemmetery that day.

i don't get it lavender because sophie doesn't know the person who has been buried in the cemmetery that day. what is going on???

mmaybe next timme i will have figured it out i amm not giving up.

that is not in the nature of your aunty

kobo clammmm

Two Women Running on the Beach

Lavender was not discouraged by Kobo's letter. It made her think more deeply about logical behaviour. She wrote back.

dear aunty kobo (she wrote)

alright aunty kobo i get it about the leap of faith and about the logical behaviour. i have been a ning nong. but i can't stay here. the children and their daddy and mummy are out all day and the knitted people sit here on a row of chairs pretending it's a train. i mean seriously.

so i have made a plan i have decided to explore sydney. i want to see the picasso exhibition in the art gallery of new south wales. i want to see two women running on the beach and the kiss. we are lucky to have the picasso exhibition here they say. i will catch the ferry. don't worry about me aunty kobo i know how.

please tell me more about that little girl sophie. was she glad her daddy was dead not sleeping?? i would be glad my daddy was dead not sleeping. i would always have a daddy then. but maybe it was different for sophie she was not a space in a pebble where a shell used to be. perhaps picasso will turn out to be my daddy.

thank you aunty kobo you see how responsible i am becoming thanks to you

love from your niece lavender

ps do you have a favourite picasso?? let me know

Not Encouraging

Kobo was surprised to hear from Lavender. She hadn't realised that Lavender had gone away. She wrote back, but not encouragingly.

mmy dear lavender. so you mmade a leap of faith?? and now you have ended up in sydney. well well lavender i think you have learned sommething now. a leap of faith is not a mmark of courage. it is the mmmark of a ningnong, it is illogical to say oh well it doesn't mmmake sense but i amm going to do it anyway. you need to learn a lesson. i ammm leaving you to stew there sorry dear.

i amm not hard hearted lavender i will tell you a story and guess what lavender this story is going to suit you very well. i amm reading a story about a little girl her namme is sophie. the little girl has lost her daddy. yes!! your ears have pricked up now.

the story is in french lavender, i amm not very good at french but i amm trying, that is what we all should do, try, not go to sydney in a shoebox, but enough said i think.

the little girl's daddy is buried in a coffin and the little girl does not mmind because she thinks her daddy is asleep. because the grownups have told her so. she throws mmimmosa on the coffin. she goes hommme with her mmmummmmy. she goes to school. her friends won't play with her because they know her daddy is dead and they think it mmight be catching. catching! you know lavender, like a cold.

one friend tells her her daddy is dead. the little girl didn't know that before. she thought he was asleep because the grownups told her. now she knows. she tells her mmummy. her mmummmy is surprised. now they all know.

well lavender i hope you like that story. it isn't finished i will tell you the rest another day mmmeanwhile have a careful think in sydney about LOGICAl BEHAVIOUR.

all the best dear,

frommm aunty kobo clammmm xx

Not Fair

The rain poured down at Cronulla. It rushed along the paved area under the pines, and down the steps onto the beach. Everyone except a few hardy surfers ran up the steps and headed for cover.

Fish and his sister, their mummy and daddy, their grandma and grandpa stood in an alcove next to a cafe, out of the rain. Behind them were bins and a metal door that went up and down. The mummy took three cakes out of the picnic esky and broke them in half. She put them on top of the esky. Everyone shared the cakes.

The children ran out into the rain laughing. Then they ran back. They were wet.

Mummy held the boogie board over her head and went to get the car.

....

Later....back at home.

The children were making a birthday cake for mummy. It was a surprise. It was hard to keep it a surprise because mummy was in the kitchen. The children said the cake was for daddy, because he'd been good. Mummy appeared to be fooled. The cake had chocolate icing, tiny M and Ms, and sprinkles heaped high up in one particular spot by Fish. And obliquely leaning candles.

.....

Lavender was sad. Where were her mummy and daddy? She wanted to go home. She decided to write to Kobo.


dear kobo, ( she wrote )

kobo i am in sydney on a leap of faith. kobo i want to come home. the knittings are going to stay here in the shoebox. they are stupid and won't obey orders. the children here are lucky. they are called butterfly and fish. fish has a snotty nose which sometimes bleeds. he can play i spy. butterfly picks pretend berries off the christmas tree and puts them in a bucket. the children like sausages. they bite their broccoli and drop it on the floor. they don't like carrots. they get cuddles. kobo i want a mummy and daddy and cuddles. i don't know how to get home. can you just for once stop reading kierkegaard and help me? your niece lavender. ps i dont think life is fair.

Cronulla

The knitted personages seemed happy enough with their lot. Perhaps they didn't know any better..

Lavender examined her options.

She could stay in the box with these losers, or get out and have a look at Sydney. All it would take was another Leap of Faith. She decided to hook up with the children.

The children were going to a beach with their mummy and daddy and grandma and grandpa. It was their mummy's birthday tomorrow and their mummy had bought herself a boogie board. The whole family was going to Cronulla so mummy could try it out.

The sun was shining over Sydney. Lavender had made friends with the smaller of the children, whose name was Fish. She sat in the back of daddy's car next to Fish.

When are we getting there, Fish? asked Lavender.

That was not the sort of question you asked Fish.

Fish's nose was snotty, because he was getting over a cold. He looked out of the window of the car. Choo choo, said Fish.

Bless you, said Lavender.

Choo choo! said Fish, again.

Lavender sighed.

Eventually they got to Cronulla.

A black storm cloud loomed up in the sky.

Mummy got out the sandwiches. Crack! Flash! Thunder!

Fish leapt into daddy's arms.

The rain poured down in buckets.

Geez! thought Lavender. Cronulla is crap.

Who Invented Children?

If this was Sydney, then Sydney was a house, and Lavender was no longer in charge.

The knitted personages had lost their imposed heirarchical order.

The Bag of Presents had been opened and closed.

Father Christmas had been forced to wear an apron, temporarily.

Mother Christmas had regained her apron and now wore it back to front.

The Stupid Looking Snowman had lost his scarf, and worse, his arms, which lay on the floor.

The Cute Reindeer had lost his beloved antlers, and now wore them as a necklace.

The Branch Members had come off the best, having won several races.

But everyone had had his cardboard bottom removed at least once.

Lavender remained in the box, sulking.

Whoever invented CHILDREN? she thought.

Heirarchical Order

Everyone dozed, except the Christmas Tree.

When they woke up it was dark and they were lying down horizontal in the box.

What happened? asked Father Christmas. Why is it dark, and why are we arranged like this?

Get off me! said Mother Christmas. You great big hairy lump.

Steady on! said Father Christmas. Do I know you?

Mother Christmas, so-called because of this silly apron, sniffed Mother Christmas.

Oh you! said Father Christmas. I think we have a bone to pick with that young whipper-snapper don't you? She has imposed a heirarchical order on us that is bound to cause friction and unrest.

Speaking of friction and unrest, said the Bag of Presents. This is very uncomfortable. Do you think this is Sydney?

The Cute Reindeer tried in vain to rearrange its black pipe cleaner antlers.

Better not be, said the Cute Reindeer.

It's not Sydney, said the Stupid Looking Snowman. Sydney is bigger, not smaller.

This isn't smaller, said Branch Member One. It's the same, with a lid.

Yeah, said Branch Member Two. It's the same, with a lid.

I didn't say it was smaller, said the Snowman.

I know! said Lavender.

What? asked the Snowman.

What? asked the Cute Reindeer.

What? asked Father Christmas, Mother Christmas, and the Bag of Presents.

It's time to go, said Lavender. Today is Thursday. You must all keep very quiet and still.

Waiting for Thursday

What happens now? said Lavender expectantly.

We wait, said the Cute Reindeer.

What for? asked Lavender.

Thursday, said the Cute Reindeer.

When is that? asked Lavender.

Don't know, said the Cute Reindeer.

Branch Member One nudged Branch Member Two.

She doesn't know, said Branch Member One.

Yeah, said Branch Member Two. Yeah... she doesn't know. Do you know?

No, said Branch Member One. But we don't have to know. I thought she would know.

The Stupid Looking Snowman coughed loudly.

What is it? asked Lavender.

I know, said the Stupid Looking Snowman.

When is it? asked Lavender.

Tomorrow, said the Stupid Looking Snowman. I keep my ears open, I do.

You're not so stupid, said Lavender.

Change my name then, said the Stupid Looking Snowman

No, said Lavender. You still look stupid.

Why? asked the Snowman. Is it my hat?

Yes, it's your hat, said Lavender. You look like a startled bee in that hat.

As long as it's my hat, said the Snowman.

You mean, and not your face, said Lavender.

Yes, said the Snowman.

Everyone was silent.

Now what do we do? asked the Bag of Presents.

We wait for Thursday, said Lavender.

Christmas Party Branch Members

Lavender didn't know exactly what faith was. But she knew she had courage. And she knew how to leap. Gathering her strength she leapt from the window sill across the room to the bookcase and landed in a shoe box full of personages in hats.

The personages, who appeared to be made out of knitting, shuffled awkwardly to make space for Lavender.

Woo! said Lavender. Where have I landed? And who are all of you?

More to the point, who are you? said one of the personages, who was dressed up like Father Christmas. Are you coming with us to Sydney?

Sydney? said Lavender. Who's Sydney?

We don't know, said the Father Christmas. We are just newly minted. We're all going to Sydney on Thursday, and that's all we know.

Why do you look like Father Christmas? said Lavender. And who's everybody else?

We don't know, said another of the other personages, who was wearing a Christmas hat and a red knitted apron. Maybe you know?

You look like Mother Christmas, said Lavender.

Wait a minute, said the Mother Christmas. That's a bit sexist.

Loser, said Lavender. You're wearing an APRON! Now shut up and I'll give you all names.

How come SHE's in charge? muttered one of the the personages from under his tall stripey hat.

Yeah, said the other one who looked much the same. But.... yeah.... she did come out of the sky.

Yeah, yeah...true.... said the other one, nodding his head, and his hat.

Right! Names! said Lavender. Father Christmas, Mother Christmas, Branch Member One, Branch Member Two, Stupid Looking Snowman, Cute Reindeer, Christmas Tree, Bag of Presents.

Oi! said the Bag of Presents. I'm not a bag of presents.

It's your NAME, said Lavender, You don't have to BE a bag of presents.

Alright then, said the Bag of Presents. Just so it's clear.

What's the point of you then? asked the Stupid Looking Snowman.

What's the point of YOU? said the Bag of Presents. A snowman made out of knitting.

Stop it! said Lavender. Let's have no more of this kind of talk.

Everyone was silent.

Lavender was pleased with her leap of faith. She had ended up in charge. Her word was law. She looked forward to Thursday. What would Sydney be like?

Listening From Behind the Envelope

Baby Pierre strolled over to see Pierre, his mummy.

Hello, Baby Pierre, said his mummy. I see you've been talking to Kobo.

Don't you want to know where I've been? asked Baby Pierre.

I know where you've been, said Pierre. And neither I nor the Manifest Stone approve of you going on errands for Kobo. She's a non-believer, you know.

I'm a non believer as well, said Baby Pierre.

No you're not, said Pierre.

Yes I am, said Baby Pierre.

You shouldn't listen to her, said Pierre.

She's about to read Philosophical Crumbs, said Baby Pierre.

Whatever is that? said Pierre.

It's by Kierkegaard, said Baby Pierre.

A philosopher, said Pierre, dismissively. She's just showing off.

The Manifest Stone began to quiver and hum, and emitted a long high-pitched ommmmmmmm.

It's about whether it's reasonable to believe in a god, said Baby Pierre, or whether it's not. Kierkegaard says that because it's not reasonable, you need to make a leap into faith.

Really, said Pierre. Kobo's reading that? Perhaps she's converted. I must go and see her at once.

She hurried over to Kobo.

Kobo! she cried. Dearest sister! Are you making the leap into faith?

No, said Kobo. I reject Kierkegaard's philosophy. I am just reading him for the jokes.

Jokes! said Pierre. That is shocking!

He's witty said Kobo, and writes well. He's puzzling and surprising and makes me laugh. But he hasn't convinced me to take the leap of faith.

You lack courage, said Pierre. That is just like you. I see you haven't put in your new eyes yet. You probably never will.

Oh go away, Pierre, said Kobo. You're the one who is blind.

Lavender was listening to this most serious conversation from her place behind the envelope of seeds.

I am going to make a leap of faith! she said to herself. And I'm not going to tell ANYONE.

Philosophical Crumbs

Are you going to put them in, Aunty Kobo? asked Baby Pierre.

I don't think so, not yet, said Kobo. I think I'll just keep them in this hessian bag until Ageless comes round.

I thought you wanted them desperately, said Baby Pierre.

I've been reading Kierkegaard, said Kobo. And I now see things differently. Life is about repetition, not radical change.

No, aunty, said Baby Pierre. You can't have read Kierkegaard properly, if that's what you think. What are you reading exactly?

Repetition and Philosophical Crumbs, said Kobo. But I haven't begun Philosophical Crumbs. Have you read it, Baby Pierre?

Bet he HASN'T! said Lavender. Bet he's just showing off.

Alright, smarty clever clogs, I haven't, said Baby Pierre. But I've read Potted Philosophers, and I know Kierkegaard was the father of existentialism and also a Christian, who invented the term Leap of Faith.

I don't like the sound of that much, said Kobo. I might leave Philosophical Crumbs. Now, as you are so knowledgeable, Baby Pierre.......

Knowledgeable! sniggered Lavender. He's only read Potted Philosophers.

I'm sure it's more than you've read, Lavender, said Kobo severely.

Lavender went off behind an envelope full of dried seeds, to sulk.

Now as I was saying, continued Kobo, as you're so well-informed, Baby Pierre, can you recommend any other philosophers to me, preferably beginning with K ?

Kant, said Baby Pierre.

Oh, never mind then, said Kobo.

A Strange Bewildered Look

Kobo was reading up on Kierkegaard's personal life. He did have a girlfriend.

Thought so, said Kobo.

Kierkegaard had been engaged to his girfriend, whose name was Regine. She was younger than he was, and pretty. Then Kierkegaard had decided he wasn't cut out for marriage.

Hey! said Kobo. Don't I know this story?

Kierkegaard had broken off the engagement, pretending that he had deceived Regine with another girl. He was a long time coming to terms with what he'd done.

Some philosopher, said Kobo. He only thought of himself. What about Regine? Did she marry someone else?

But the text didn't say.

It did say what Kierkegaard looked like. A friend had described him like this: His hair rose up a good six inches above his forehead into a tousled crest that gave him a strange bewildered look.

That's not how I pictured him, said Kobo. I am so disappointed.

Just then Baby Pierre and Lavender arrived, with the eyes in the hessian bag.

Hello Aunty Kobo, said Lavender. I've brought back Baby Pierre, and your eyes.

No she hasn't, said Baby Pierre. I was coming back anyway. And I've brought the eyes.

Thank you dear, said Kobo. I don't suppose Ageless is with you?

No, he stayed at the museum, said Baby Pierre. He's involved in some sort of display.

Tell me, said Kobo. Is Ageless handsome?

Lavender stifled a snort.

Not at the moment, said Baby Pierre.

Happy Endings in Sight

Kobo had finished Repetition. Now she got it. Kierkegaard was saying that life was a repetition. The young man had got his life back. Now he could start all over again, but he had learned something. This was opposed to the Platonic view, where he would have already known it in the first place.

That is deep, said Kobo. I wonder if Kierkegaard had a girlfriend?

.......

Back in the Pacific Cultures Gallery, the existential debate continued.

If you don't care about anything, why are you looking for your daddy? asked Baby Pierre.

Shut up, Baby Pierre, said Lavender. Just SHUT UP!

Uuurrgh, said Ageless,

What's the matter? asked Mr Lee.

I think I'm beginning to moult, said Ageless. I don't feel very well.

It may be the corn chips, said Mr Lee.

I doubt it, said Ageless. It's the crack in my head. I shall have to leave you all soon and go back to the sea for a while.

Don't go, said Mr Lee. We have a new exhibition coming up called The Abyss. We're having a water tank and everything. You can do it in there.

In front of everyone? said Ageless.

We'd pay you, said Mr Lee, temptingly.

Alright, said Ageless. It's a deal.

Wooo! said Baby Pierre. I would never do something like that.

Stupid! How could you do something like that? said Lavender.

Shut up, Lavender, said Baby Pierre. You don't know anything. I'm going home.

I rescued you, said Lavender. We'll go home together, so Kobo can see.

Take these with you, said Ageless, handing a small hessian bag to Baby Pierre.

Give it to me, said Lavender, I'll take it. What's in it?

Kobo's new calcite eyes, said Ageless.

Eeuuww! said Lavender. I don't want them. Are they sticky?

No, said Mr Lee. They're as hard as a rock.

Hardly Seems Like Philosophy

Kobo couldn't believe Constantine Constantius. He advised his young friend to pretend he had another girlfriend on the side! But the young man couldn't face pretending to be guilty of deception when he was innocent. Instead, he decided to run away. Luckily for everyone, the original girlfriend in the meantime had got married to somebody else.

Hoorah! said Kobo. That is what I would have done. But this hardly seems like philosophy. It's more like a novel.

........

The lecture was finished.

Did you enjoy it? asked Mr Lee.

No, said Ageless. I'm worried now, about the warming of the Southern Ocean. I don't like to think of the shells of my fellow creatures being softened due to rising ocean temperatures.

Why would you care? said Lavender. I wouldn't care.

You ought to care, Lavender, said Baby Pierre. Imagine if your shell had been soft. You wouldn't have made an impression in your stone. You would have just decomposed.

So I wouldn't care, said Lavender. Because I wouldn't be here.

You aren't here anyway, said Baby Pierre. You're always telling us you're just empty space.

I am empty space, said Lavender, but I do have a shape.

Well, you wouldn't have had a shape, said Baby Pierre. If your shell was too soft.

I'd still be me, said Lavender.

No you wouldn't, said Baby Pierre. You'd be nothing.

Then I wouldn't care about others! said Lavender.

You should care about others, said Ageless. Then they'll care about you.

You're soppy, said Lavender. No one cares about me.

That's true, said Baby Pierre.

Well, said Mr Lee. I cared enough about her to want to keep her as a specimen.

Perhaps you're my daddy, said Lavender.

The Happiness of Seals

Kobo was getting right into Kierkegaard. He was a strange sort of philosopher. He wrote in character. In Repetition he called himself Constantine Constantius. Constantine Constantius had some funny ideas, but you couldn't really blame Kierkegaard for any of them. Constantine Constantius was an older man who was trying to give helpful advice to a younger man. The younger man had split up with his girlfriend, because he had decided that after all he couldn't deal with getting married. The trouble was, how could he get out of it without feeling terribly guilty for the rest of his life?

Ageless should read this, thought Kobo.

........

Ageless was not thinking about Kobo at all. He was in the Pacific Cultures Gallery, sitting next to Mr Lee, munching corn chips, which he had brought up from dowstairs. On the other side of Mr Lee, Lavender and Baby Pierre each occupied a separate seat, althought they could easily have doubled up. Above them, suspended from the ceiling hung two woven straw alligators, and along the walls were various shields, spears and Pacific Cultures masks, arranged in patterns.

The lecture was about the Southern Ocean, which is warming, freshening and acidifying. This is known because scientists drop hundreds of yellow plastic data-gathering transmitter tubes into the ocean, and also attach transmitters to the heads of seals. Sucked in, seals. The speaker had a photo of one of the seals. It looked quite happy with its transmitter sitting on its head just like a fascinator. It smiled and stuck its large pink tongue at the camera. It could easily have been made of wax.

Lavender nudged Baby Pierre.

What? whispered Baby Pierre.

The speaker, Steve Rintoul, went on to say that the transmitters didn't hurt the seals. The transmitters dropped off when their fur began to moult, sometimes even before. As he spoke he looked directly at Lavender who was looking back at him and wondering if he could be her daddy. But she wasn't going to say anything, not this time.

Repetition

Kobo wasn't really a wanker. She liked the letter K, that was all. So she had chosen Kierkegaard. She knew nothing about him. She opened the book. It was called Repetition. That's amazing, said Kobo, given that I'm doomed to repeat the process of sending my friends to the museum on quests and losing them there. I wonder what Kierkegaard can teach us about that?

.....

Lavender caught the bus to the city. She took her quest seriously. She paid no attention to the man who was singing, and the two who were talking at cross purposes about Mad and Cracked magazines.

She got off the bus, raced across the road and burst into the museum, demanding to know where her friends were.

The information officer guessed at once who she meant.

They're downstairs in the lab with Mr Lee, she said.

Lavender charged downstairs and looked around for a laboratory. Down a dark corridor to the right she saw a door with a LABORATORY sign on it. She kicked it open.

Hah! she said. I'm here!

Who are you? asked Mr Lee.

I'm Lavender! said Lavender. Where's Ageless? Where's Baby Pierre?

We're here, said Ageless. What are you doing here?

Rescuing you! said Lavender. Or kicking you. Where's Baby Pierre?

I'm alright, said Ageless. Baby Pierre is in the cupboard.

Let him out! cried Lavender. He's not a SPECIMEN!

He is, said Mr Lee. And let me look at you! You're a pretty little augur, aren't you.

No way! said Lavender. I'm the space where an augur used to be. And I'm not going in your stinky cupboard. Let Baby Pierre out right now, or I'll.... I'll prick you!

I don't think so, said Mr Lee, given that you're just an empty space. But I take your point. And I apologise. I was acting in the interests of science. I don't know what came over me. I can only say in my defence that I haven't had any lunch.

He opened the cupboard.

Hello Lavender, said Baby Pierre. There are lots of interesting specimens in this cupboard. Want to see?

No, said Lavender. Get down. We're going home.

None of you are going home yet, said Mr Lee. It's nearly time for the Sprigg lecture.

A LECTURE! said Lavender How BORING!!!

Choosing Kierkegaard

Kobo was furious. Now what? Had Baby Pierre got himself locked in a dark cupboard by Mr Lee, who thought he was an interesting conglomerate?

Or was Baby Pierre, just like his so-called daddy, having her on? That bus trip to the city, the people in tinselly hats, the three boys with their bowl full of livers, couldn't really have happened, could it? So where was that naughty Baby Pierre?

She had two options now. Forget about it, or ask Lavender to help. She decided to ask Lavender.

Lavender was perching nearby on the window sill on the other side of a pale blue saki jar filled with white roses.

Lavender, said Kobo, would you mind catching the bus into town and going in to the museum to check up on Ageless and Baby Pierre? They either need rescuing, or kicking.

Yay! said Lavender. You mean I can go on my own?

Yes, said Kobo. There's no one else here to ask, except Pierre and the Manifest Stone, who are both utterly useless.

I heard that, Kobo! said Pierre. You are the one who is utterly useless, not me. You've corrupted my Baby Pierre. You've alienated your boyfriend. You can't even see out of your shell. And as for the Manifest Stone how dare you criticise the All-Knowing?

The Nothing-Doing, you mean, said Kobo, rudely. Anyway Lavender's going. Now Lavender....

But Lavender had already gone.

Right, said Kobo, now shut up Pierre, and leave me alone.

A pleasure, dear sister, said Pierre.

Now, said Kobo loudly, the only way to deal with these disturbingly ambiguous events is to read something philosophical while I'm waiting. Let me see. I believe I shall choose Kierkegaard.

What a wanker you are, said Pierre.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Baby Pierre went straight to the museum shop.

Do you have a positive negative trilobite? he asked the woman behind the counter.

You're out of luck, said the woman. We had one, but we just gave it away to a lobster fellow who was inconvenienced in the Santos Fossils Gallery.

Oh good! said Baby Pierre. I know that lobster! Do you happen to know where he is now?

No, said the woman. But you could enquire at the information desk.

Baby Pierre went to the information desk. I'm looking for a lobster, he said.

The one with the backpack? asked the information officer.

That's him, said Baby Pierre. Do you know where he is?

He went down to the lab with Mr Lee, said the information officer. Down those stairs and to the right.

Baby Pierre thanked her and turned towards the stairs. So! Ageless was not unreliable. His story was true. At least so far.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and followed a dark corridor to the right. He came to a door marked LABORATORY. He knocked.

Come in, said Mr Lee.

Baby Pierre went in. There was a fishy smell in the room, mingled with the odour of coffee.

Ageless! he cried.

What have we here? asked Mr Lee. A small round pebble with the mark of a tulip on its head! A conglomerate perhaps?

I'm Baby Pierre, said Baby Pierre.

Ageless looked out groggily from under the plaster on his head.

Baby Pierre! he said. What are you doing here?

Kobo sent me, said Baby Pierre. She thought you were still in the library. But I knew I'd find you here.

Oh, said Ageless. Is she angry? Is she impatient? I have just experienced a series of unfortunate events.

She thinks you've been playing her for a fool, said Baby Pierre. Pretending her what-ifs had come true.

That serves her right, said Ageless. No wait! It doesn't. It serves me right!

Never mess about with counterfactuals, said Mr Lee, sternly. Especially before the event. Afterwards, of course, you can do what you like.

Baby Pierre had always fancied himself as a thinker. He thought hard about this.

He was still thinking, when Mr Lee's hand closed around him, and everything went dark.

Stranger Than Fiction

Kobo had read Ageless's adventures in the museum with mounting disbelief. So he hoped she was reading it, did he? That proved he was making it up!

He had probably never even left the museum.

She asked Baby Pierre if he would mind checking up on her unreliable boyfriend.

Oh come on, Aunty Kobo! said Baby Pierre. He couldn't have invented it all. He's just winding you up.

But Kobo insisted, so Baby Pierre waited for the rain to stop and then caught the bus into the city.

It was the day of the Norwood Christmas Pageant, and the bus was full of wet people in tinselly hats. Baby Pierre had to sit at the back.

Three boys got on with a big canvas bag, a large metal amplifier and a bowl of cooked livers. They attempted to open a window, but the bus windows were locked. The boys laughed. The livers were smelly, but at least they had tried.

Baby Pierre was glad when he had to get off. Now, should he go to the museum or the library?

That depended on the exact point in Ageless's story where it had turned counterfactual. He was sure it was after the hypnotism, which had the ring of truth. Baby Pierre had seen QI as well.

Yes, he would go to the museum. Ageless would be there. In fact, if the story was true, he might be in need of first aid.

All Her What-Ifs

I assure you I do have the sort of brains that can ooze out, said Ageless, highly offended. You've been reading the wrong sort of website.

What do you mean? asked Mr Lee, looking around for something to wipe up his spoiled lunch.

The ones that tell you how to kill and cook a lobster, said Ageless. They all insist we don't have brains, because it suits them to believe we don't feel pain. But the scientific ones say that we do.

I know, said Mr Lee crossly, drumming his fingers on the back of his giant trilobite, so that it rocked alarmingly. I am a scientist myself, remember, and I specialise in arthropods. You may have a sort of brain, but it is composed of simple ganglia. They allow you to feel pain, but they don't ooze out.

They DO! said Ageless, firmly. Of course I don't intend to prove it.

He was about to turn tail and leave Mr Lee to his dirty floor and rocking giant trilobite when all at once the giant trilobite rolled off the desk and fell on top of Ageless, cracking him on the head.

Oh help! cried Ageless. Look what's happened now!

He lay on the floor half-stunned, waving his legs helplessly. What was it Kobo had said? What if, what if....? All her what-ifs had come to pass. He looked at the uncarpetted floor. It was slippery with something that looked and smelled like lobster juice. But it could easily have been sushi mixed with milky coffee. On the other hand it could well be his brains.

This was all Kobo's fault.

Ageless hoped that she was reading this.

What If?

Ageless and Mr Lee went downstairs to Mr Lee's laboratory. It was full of shelves and glass cases, dimly lit.

Would you like an iced coffee before we start? asked Mr Lee.

No thanks, said Ageless. I told you I don't like ice.

There's no ice in iced coffee, said Mr Lee. You add it, if you want it. Why don't you like it?

It presages death for lobsters, said Ageless. They keep us on ice before they drop us into boiling water.

Oh bad luck! said Mr Lee, feelingly. Well I'll have one, if you don't mind. And do you mind if I also eat my lunch? It's sushi.

Go ahead, said Ageless, wrinkling up his nose.

Mr Lee went over to the fridge and took out an iced coffee and a small plastic tray of sushi. He opened the coffee and put it on his desk next to the tray.

Now, said Mr Lee, I'll show you my giant trilobite.

He leaned across Ageless to lift his giant trilobite down from an upper shelf.

Oops! said Mr Lee, dropping the giant trilobite onto his lunch.

Sheeezz! said Ageless. This is getting too much like Kobo's counterfactual for my liking.

What are you talking about? asked Mr Lee crossly. Look at my lunch, it's ruined!

What if your giant trilobite had rolled off the table and cracked me on the head? What if my brains oozed out? said Ageless. That could easily have happened.

No it couldn't, said Mr Lee.

Why not? said Ageless. Don't tell me you are of the opinion that a counterfactual can't happen?

It's not that, said Mr Lee, I don't quite know if I should say this, but I'm sure you know.....

What? said Ageless, moving slightly to avoid the dripping coffee and falling lumps of fishy-smelling rice.

A lobster. said Mr Lee, has a primitive nervous system and doesn't have the sort of brain that can ooze out.

Ice Wind and Waves

All sorted? asked Dr Suzanne Miller.

Yes, said Mr Lee. He's having the positive negative.

Good choice, said Dr Suzanne Miller. Would you like it in a bag, Mr Ageless?

No thank you, said Ageless. I have a backpack at the information desk.

Well goodbye then, Mr Ageless, said Dr Suzanne Miller. Perhaps we shall see you next week at the final Sprigg Lecture for the year?

Err...what is it about? asked Ageless.

Ice, Wind and Waves, said Dr Suzanne Miller.

Count me in, said Ageless. We lobsters don't like ice, but two out of three's not bad.

Mr Lee accompanied him to the information desk.

I need to pick its eyes out, said Ageless.

The trilobite's? said Mr Lee. Maybe I can help you. And if you're not pressed for time, perhaps you'd like to see my own collection of fossils in the lab downstairs. I have some trilobites, including several giant ones.

I would, said Ageless, little realising the counterfactual that was about to happen.

Defunct

Speaking German! marvelled Ageless. What a thought!

Not really, shrugged Doctor Suzanne Miller. It's a common enough counterfactual. Imagine, on the other hand if Hitler had a different name entirely, such as Butler.

Ageless was impressed.

You are a brainy woman, he said.

I was born in Scotland, said Dr Suzanne Miller.

Nevertheless, said Ageless, chivalrously.

Fortunately by then they had arrived at the Museum Shop. Mr Lee pointed to the cabinet that contained the trilobites.

Do please choose one, Mr Ageless, said Dr Suzanne Miller. Take your time. She walked over to the counter to explain the situation to the sales assistant.

Ageless peered into the cabinet. All the trilobites looked very small. But then Kobo was quite small. Any one of them would do. He decided to choose the one that was the most expensive. But he could only see one trilobite that had a price tag. The price was $199.00. Was that expensive? For all he knew it could be cheap.

That's a good one, said Mr Lee, pointing to the one with the tag. It's a positive negative fossil, which is always nice. That means you get the fossil and the rock it was embedded in. See?

Hmmm, said Ageless. Hmmm. Is it ... is it the best one? I'm looking for a trilobite with calcite eyes.

I see you know your fossils, said Mr Lee, appreciatively. Yes I think this one has eyes.

But are they working? persisted Ageless.

Working? said Mr Lee. It's a fossil.

What does that mean? said Ageless.

It's pretty much defunct, said Mr Lee.

Oh, said Ageless. Well never mind, I'll have it anyway.

The Kindness of Strangers

Please calm down, Mr...umm..., began Dr Suzanne Miller.

Ageless, said Ageless.

Mr Ageless, she continued. What a lovely name for a lobster. Its significance is certainly not lost on me. Now, Mr Ageless, I'm very sorry to have to tell you that trilobites are not currently on display here in the museum.

Not on display! spluttered Ageless. Why not?

Ask Santos, said Dr Suzanne Miller. They sponsor the Fossils Gallery. However, we may have one or two trilobites in the Museum Shop.

In the shop! repeated Ageless. Don't tell me you expect me to BUY one!

No, no, Mr Ageless, said Dr Suzanne Miller placatingly. In view of the inconvenience you've suffered...

Indeed! said Ageless. Inconvenience with knobs on!

Tang and Dragon d'Or began to snigger. Their teacher silenced them with the most severe of looks.

In view of that, said Dr Suzanne Miller, I think it only fair that we should take you to the Museum Shop and allow you to choose a trilobite to take home with you.

How kind, said Ageless, with a triumphant look at Tang and Dragon d'Or. And maybe THEY should pay for it.

No, no, said Dr Suzanne Miller. They were just being boys.

Well, said Ageless. I would like to whack them with a ruler.

Everyone looked horrified.

Only joking, said Ageless.

Tang and Dragon d'Or went back to join their classmates, with their teacher. Mr Lee and Dr Suzanne Miller walked Ageless over to the Museum Shop.

No one spoke. It was awkward. Ageless thought perhaps he ought to start a conversation.

Do you ever wonder what would have happened if Hitler had won the war? he asked his companions.

We would all be speaking German, said Dr Suzanne Miller.

Ageless was astonished. It had never crossed his mind that THAT might be the answer.

An Unflattering Description of The Museum

The schoolboy, whose name was Tang, held Ageless in a remorseless grip.

Go on, said his friend Dragon d'Or. I bet you can't.

I can, said Tang. I saw Stephen Fry do it on QI last week.

Ageless couldn't believe what he was hearing. He quite liked Stephen Fry.

Tang began to stroke his back from nose to mid point rhythmically. Almost immediately Ageless found he had lost the ability to move.

Tang! called out his teacher. What are you up to over there?

He's found a lobster, miss! said Dragon d'Or.

Bring it here at once, said the teacher. Tang! Did you find this in the Marine Invertebrates Gallery?

No miss, said Tang. It was in here, looking at the fossils.

Don't be ridiculous Tang, said the teacher. It's obviously dead. Wait till Mr Lee has finished his fossil talk, and then we'll hand it in.

Ageless was outraged, but there was nothing he could do.

Mr Lee looked puzzled when he was handed the supine Ageless, and frowned at Tang and Dragon d'Or.

Nevertheless he invited them to come with him to the New Specimens Room, where the lobster could be properly identified.

Soon Ageless found himself flat out on a specimen table. He was starting to get some feeling back in his legs. He sat up. There were several people standing round the specimen table, including Tang, Dragon d'Or, their teacher, Mr Lee and Dr Suzanne Miller.

It's an arthropod, said Dr Suzanne Miller. But somewhat unusual.

I am indeed! said Ageless. And I am not accustomed to being treated in his manner. This would never happen in the library! However, forgive and forget, that's my motto. Now, can ANY of you people tell me where in this hotchpotch rabbit warren of galleries and staircases I might find some TRILOBITES!

Hypnosis in the Fossil Gallery

Excuse me sir! called the information officer. Excuse me!

Ageless turned around at the bottom of the stairs.

Yes? said Ageless.

No backpacks in the museum, said the information officer officiously.

Ageless was annoyed. How was he to steal anything without his backpack? He had little choice, however, because the information officer had followed him to the stairs.

Thank you sir, she said, pulling at his backpack.

Eowwwh! said Ageless. That hurt!

Sorry sir, said the information officer. Is there anything I can help you with at all?

How do I get to Level Three? asked Ageless. I'm interested in looking at the trilobites.

The information officer looked blank.

Trilobites? she said. Are they some sort of fossils?

Of course they are, said Ageless. What sort of information officer are you? Perhaps you could inform me whether or not there's a lift?

Through there, said the information officer, pointing. There's a lift at the end of the Aboriginal Cultures Gallery.

Thank you, said Ageless, glad he didn't have to climb up all those stairs.

He came out of the lift on Level Three and blinked. It was rather dark. Then he saw in front of him a door leading to the Santos Fossils Exhibition. He went in. A group of schoolchildren was sitting on the floor listening to a man tell them about the fossils.

He gazed around the room. Where were the trilobites? He could see ammonites and belemnites, opalised snail shells and fossilised dinosaur bones, but there wasn't a single trilobite to be seen!

They must be somewhere else, he thought.

He was about to wander into the next gallery when he was roughly seized from behind.

Hey guys! A lobster! said a schoolboy's voice. Who wants to see me hypnotise a lobster?

Suspicion

Ageless was alarmed by Kobo's letter. He was sure he wouldn't look as handsome flat. He decided to go to the museum straight away, and see how difficult it would be to steal two eyes. He could work out how to fit them onto Kobo later.

He ambled over from the library to the museum. It was hot and he proceeded slowly. On the way he amused himself by wondering what would have happened if Butler had won the war. He rather wished that Kobo had spelled it with a double t. Buttler. If Buttler won the war he would kick butts. He thought that would be very funny....for an American. For himself, he always preferred the term bottom.

He entered the museum. Ahh. It was refreshingly cool. And there was a thick red carpet on the grand central staircase. He must remember to tell Kobo. No he mustn't. Was it him who'd said there wouldn't be a carpet, or was it her? Sometimes he got confused about who'd said what.

He shuffled up to the information board. Fossils were on Level Three. He moved towards the staircase, unaware that the information officer was eying him suspiciously.

Nothing Sticking Out

Kobo didn't know who Hitler was, but she was sure he didn't get his name because he hit people. She asked Baby Pierre to ask Pierre, his mummy. Pierre said she would ask the Manifest Stone. The Manifest Stone answered ommmmmmm. Pierre relayed this answer to Baby Pierre who then told Kobo: Hitler is an om. Hmmm thought Kobo. Is that English or French?

She wrote back to Ageless.

dear ageless (she wrote)
i'mm not thick. you are the one who doesn't know who hitler is. you are thick for thinking that if hitler won the war he would hit people. what if hitler was called cutler, ageless? would he win the war and cut people?

what if he was called butler??? ha ha ageless it doesn't mmake any sense.

and anyway, everybody knows that hitler is an ommmm.

ageless i amm becommming worried about the new eye you are going to steal for me, although of course i don't approve of stealing. i amm worried because i only have one aperture. i amm not sure one eye alone will work, what about the depth of vision, ageless, what?

how handsomme will you be if you look flat?

and as for kissing i know about kissing ageless. i will not know where to kiss you if there is nothing sticking out for me to kiss.

help mme out ageless

love frommm your smmarter-than-you but unhappy girlfriend kobo clammm

Whoever Hitler Is

Ageless did not like the tone of Kobo's reply. He wrote back at once.

haha kobo!!! ( he wrote )

YOU are thick!!!

at the talk on counterfactuals,,,, i learned this,,,,,,,,history has to HAPPEN first,,,,THEN you make up a stupid different story,,,,,WHAT IF hitler had won the war???? there is a book about it ,,,,,whoever hitler is,,,,,he would have hit people,,,,hitler,,,,yes even the clever lobsters and the creamy girly clams,,,,,

you didn't do a counterfactual,,,,,you made up your stupid story too soon,,,,i haven't even been to the museum yet ha ha,,,!! i might not go,,,,,especially NOW,,,,, i am in danger of being smashed on the head by a falling trilobite,,,,and slipping on the carpet,,,,,yerk!! i don't think they have a carpet kobo,,, you don't know anything,,,,

i don't have to go kobo,,,,i know the answer,,,,their eyes had double lenses, two layers of calcite with different refractive indices,,,,, who is the thick one now kobo????,,,,not me,,,, not ageless

i think you WANT me to go,,,kobo,,,to the museum,,,,really???

four millimetres,,,mmm,,, that is not very big,,,,tell baby pierre that when ageless sees him ageless will give him a ruler,,,whack whack,,, don't tell him i might be only joking

kissykiss
from your boyfriend
ageless lobster

Counterfactuals

Kobo disapproved of stealing. She decided she had better make that clear.

dear ageless (she wrote)
sorry ageless dear about the commmas. and thankyou for prommmising to go to the museummm to steal a calcite eye. but ageless i do not approve of stealing. i was thinking mmore of learning how they work. i think a rigid lens could not accommmmodate for focal length. once the problemmm is explained (by you dear ageless) i shall ask baby pierre to get mme a prescription frommm the optommmmmetrist

the mmeasuremment of mmy aperture is four mmmillimmmetres in diammeter. according to our scallywag, who mmay be wrong because he has lost his ruler and is guessing

now agelesss, i have to tell you off. i think that you have got the wrong end of the stick about the heads and car bonnets. surely ageless the idea is to save heads, not bonnets. it is typical of you to get it wrong

and ageless yes i know about counterfactual history. i hope you are capable of understanding it. you are quite thick sommetimmmes. the idea is you say WHAT IF? to history

what if you,ageless, went to the mmuseummm and tried to steal a trilobite? what if you opened up the glass case and the trilobite, which was a big one, rolled out and smmashed you on the head? what if you had to spend the night in the mmuseummm amongst the scary bones with your brains oozing out onto the carpet? what if there was no carpet so the floor was slippery as well?

you see how it works ageless? you learn something frommm thinking counterfactually

bye bye now hurry up ageless i amm waiting

kiss kiss frommm your girlfriend kobo clamm

Just Rubber Ones

Ageless did not take kindly to the criticsm of his commas. Although he was busy he replied at once.

dear kobo (he wrote),,,,,,now it is you kobo who are rude,,,,and you who are INSENSITIVE!!! ,,,why do you think i make so many commas kobo??? do you think it is for punctuation purposes???? no kobo,,,,,,,,,, it is because it is difficult to type with lobster claws,,,,,,,clikclik,,,,,sorry to be TEDIOUS!!

kobo i have been very busy seeing the heads being fired at the cars at the university,,,,,,,,, it is research week this week,,,, a human head can damage the bonnet of a car quite badly,,,,,who knew???,,,,,imagine what a lobster's head might do,,,,,splattt,,,yerk,,,,,,,,,nothing probably,,,,hee hee,,,,,,clikclik,,,they weren't real human heads just rubber ones!! tomorrow i am going to a talk on counterfactual history,,,,,do you know what that is???

you know kobo i used to think i had all the time in the world ,,,then i became your friend and you were always in a hurry for me to do something,,,,remember when you wanted me to find you,,,,, you said you had fallen off the window sill down a horrid smelly hole,,,,,because you had been laughing,,,,,,but you were just pretending,,,,

so now kobo i do not jump to do everything you want immediately,,,but i will go to the museum for you soon,,,,old ageless has a plan,,,,,, but i need to know the measurement of your biggest hole,,,,oops sorry kobo....aperture,,,, because i am going to steal a trilobite eye for you kobo,,, then i will bring it to you,,,, and you can put it in,,,ooh,,,clikclik,,,,and see me for the first time kobo,,,,i am a handsome lobster,,,,,do you believe me????

yours forever,,, creamy girlfriend,,,,ooh,,,kisskisss

ageless lobster

Apertures

Kobo was a little disappointed. Ageless remained as insensitive as ever. She had not liked his reference to her holes. And he was still so unreliable. When would he actually get round to visiting the museum? But at least he had responded, so she ought to persevere.

dear ageless (she replied),
how rude you are. don't you know how rude it is to ask the size of people's holes? well now you do. i ammm offended please next timme refer to APERTURES.

well ageless thanks for asking. i do not know the size or nummmber of mmmy apertures. so i asked baby pierre. you are right he is a little scallywag. do you know what he said agelesss do you?? baby pierre said by apertures do you mmean holes?

this shows mmore than anything, mmore than your precious mmark of the lobster claw, that if he is not your natural son he should be you are both so rude.

anyway ageless he said i had one big one and several that were extremmely smmall. i hope that helps. he also said that the big one was on mmmy underside ( but he did not say underside!!!) and that it would not be a good place for an eye. yes i could kill himmm too, and i'mmm not joking ageless.

when are you going to the mmuseummm ageless?? what is this about the university??? and firing heads at cars from yellow mmmachines??? is that what happens nowadays at universities????? it sounds like mmore like mmmythbusters to mme

dear ageless i know you are busy but i will be your girlfriend i prommmise i will kiss you do you really think i look creammmy that is nice i would ask baby pierre if it is true but it is too emmmbarrassing asking himm

and ageless do try and use less commmmmmas will you, it is very tedious reading all those commmas

love frommmm kobo clammmmmm

kisss kisss mmmm

Not To Say You Don't Have Holes

Ageless was at the library when he received Kobo's communication. He wrote back straight away.

oooh,,,,clikclik,,,,, dear kobo is it really you and you are not angry with me????
this is my lucky day,,,,,and your lucky day,,,,i am still wanting to kiss you ,,,,but not in a nice way,,,,,i mean not too nice,,,,,,clikclik

sorry kobo i did not mean that sorry,,,,,i was too excited by your words,,,,,i did mean nice,,,,

i will go to the museum for you kobo it is just next door,,,,they have a collection of trilobite fossils there including giant ones,,,,what size eyes do you want??? i will get some for you,,,but it might be hard,,,,they are in a glass case,,,,

i am in the library now,,, i have a book on trilobites,,,,,, they do have calcite eyes that is calcium carbonate,,, how strange,,,,,,,calcium carbonate is transparent in its purest crystalline form,,,,,they could see through their crystal eyes,,,,,,,have you got holes in your head for the calcite eyes dear pretty kobo????,,,,,,have you???? ,,,,,,,,,yes i did see you through the kitchen window you are very,,,,,clikclik,,,,creamy,,,,,but i did not see your holes,,,,that is not to say you don't have holes,,,,,,,i bet you have,,,,kobo,,, clikclik,,,,,

by the way who told you that i saw you??? was it that scallywag baby pierre????,,i'll kill him,,,only joking kobo,,,

i'm busy tomorrow i have to go to something at the university i will tell you all about it next time it's about testing cars for safety by firing heads at them from a yellow machine,,,,i will like it,,,you will like it too,,,,,,oh kobo

kisss kisss clik,,,,,

from ageless lobster!!!

New Opening

Kobo stopped reading. Two things had excited her imagination. One, that trilobites had eyes made of calcite. Two, that Margaret and Gaius might be about to fall in love.

Immediately she thought of Ageless. She hadn't contacted him for months. It served him right of course. She knew that he had come by one evening and looked at her through the kitchen window. And then he had fallen off the window sill and carelessly squashed Frog. But Ageless was Ageless. He was unreliable, and you couldn't really blame him for that.

She decided it was time to restart things between them. Perhaps this time they too would fall in love. Oh, love!

mmy dear ageless ( she wrote)

it is such a long timmmme since we had commmmunications. it is your fault. i forgive you ageless.

ageless i know you work nowadays in the library. that is near the mmmuseum is it not???? have you ever heard of trilobites ageless???? trilobites had eyes that were mmmade of stones.

i learned this from a blog i'mmm reading, gaius in the blog is a natural historian he says their eyes were mmmade of calcite

ageless you are mmmy friend the only friend i can trust well no but you are mmmy friend

will you go to the mmuseum for mmme and learn about the eyes of calcite???? i have always longed to SEE, it is HORRID HORRID to live in the darkness of being a fossilised clammmm.

ageless if you help mmme you can be mmmy boyfriend immagine that!!! and i could see you and you could kiss mmme

in a nice way, ageless

mmmmmmm

frommm kobo clammmm

Understandings

Leave the chicken and icecreams with us, said The VeloDrone.

Okay, said the president. Enjoying yourselves?

Mmmm, said Le Bon David, eying the esky.

Yes, said The VeloDrone. All these rocks. It's hard not to.

The president smiled benevolently and wandered off.

You'll note, said The VeloDrone, that I didn't say what would happen to the chicken and icecreams.

Noted, said Le Bon David. Shall we eat them on the train?

We shall, said The VeloDrone. Let's go.

......

Meanwhile Margaret and Gaius were deep in fascinating conversation.

I should very much like to see this Exeloo you speak of, Margaret, said Gaius. And the Contemplation, and the Tjilbruke monument as well. You obviously know a great deal about this coastline.

Oh yes, said Margaret, but it's always nicer to be with someone who appreciates what they're seeing.

I'm sure that David and Vello appreciated what you showed them, said Gaius.

I'm not so sure they did, said Margaret, but I somehow feel that you would. Did you know, she continued, that the fossilised remains of giant red kangaroos have been found inland from the southern end of this beach?

Wonderful, said Gaius. I take it you are interested in fossils?

I am, said Margaret. I am particularly interested in trilobites.

So am I , said Gaius, Did you know that their eyes were made of calcite?

Yes. How good is that, said Margaret.

Not very good I shouldn't have thought, said Gaius.

Margaret giggled.

Gaius understood that she thought he'd made a joke.

Pre-ordered Icecreams

Margaret looked at Gaius. She hadn't paid much attention to him before, when he'd been talking to the president. He reminded her of an old Roman, even though he wasn't wearing sandals, but sensible enclosed shoes like everyone else.

Hello Gaius, she said. What's all this fun you've been having?

We've been looking at Black Cliff, said Gaius. We identified glacial striations, chatter marks and crescentic gouges in the bedrock. Then we found evidence of the more recently formed layers of fossiliferous sandstone.

Oh where? asked Margaret. I'm sorry I missed seeing that.

Over there, said Gaius, waving a finger in the general direction of the layers of fossiliferous sandstone.

Will you show me? asked Margaret. I shouldn't like to go home without having seen it. And did you find the place where you can stand with one foot in the Permian.....

....and one in the Pleistocene! Yes! said Gaius. I'll show you that too Margaret. Come with me.

Wait a minute, Gaius, said Le Bon David. Have you saved us any chicken?

No, said Gaius. I assumed you had eaten something at Kingston.

We did, said Le Bon David, but it was a mere mouthful.

It was a whole foccaccia, said Margaret.

She walked off with Gaius over the calcrete layer and rubbly limestone that lay around the rim of the Hallett Cove amphitheatre.

They're getting on well, observed The VeloDrone.

Yes, said Le Bon David. We're saved.

The president came up, with an esky.

Where did Gaius and Margaret go? he asked. I've got Margaret's chicken, and two pre-ordered icecreams.

Meet Margaret

No no, Gaius isn't married at all, said The VeloDrone. Not as far as I know. Are you married at all, Margaret?

I'm a widow, said Margaret.

Oh, said The VeloDrone. Aha. Well, let us hurry along. It is getting near lunch time.

They retraced their steps past the Contemplation and up and around the cliff path back to the Exeloo at Marino Rocks.

Phew! said Le Bon David. That was taxing! I say, where is everyone?

They looked around, but the Field Geologists were nowhere to be seen.

What's the time? asked Margaret, looking at her watch. Oh it's twelve thirty. They'll have gone on to Hallett Cove, in the bus.

What! said Le Bon David. Why?

That was the plan, said Margaret. There's nowhere to sit here. We were going to have the picnic lunch on the grass at Hallett Cove. Never mind, we can walk.

No we can't, said Le Bon David. I've had enough.

We'll catch the train, then, said Margaret. The station is just up the road.

There's a train? said The VeloDrone. Does it go back to town?

NO! said Margaret. Well, it does, but we are not going back into town. Whatever are you thinking!

Nothing, said The VeloDrone. Alright, let's catch the train. Gaius owes us some of his chicken.

So he does, said Le Bon David. Two thirds of his chicken. I could just do with that. And icecream was mentioned.

And an introduction, said Margaret.

......

They walked up the road to the station and waited for the train. Half an hour later they arrived at Hallett Cove to find Gaius and the Field Geologists sitting on the grass polishing off the last of the chickens.

They sat down next to Gaius.

Where have you been? asked Gaius, wiping chicken grease from his lips. You've missed all the fun.

Not all of it, said Le Bon David. Gaius, meet Margaret.

Gaius looked at Margaret.

Hello Margaret, he said.

Coming Down

You're very sharp, Mr Vello, said Margaret. For a philosopher, she added.

I'm not just any philosopher, said The VeloDrone. I've been at it for a very long time, and so has David.

Why haven't I heard of you? said Margaret. It's not as though there are many philosophers about these days. There's that nice young Alain de Botton....

Yes yes, Alain de Botton! said The Velodrone. There is him. But perhaps you've heard of Voltaire and David Hume?

That's you? exclaimed Margaret.

One of them is, said The VeloDrone. Guess which one.

You are Voltaire , said Margaret, because David is too fat. I apologise for not knowing who you were. We weren't introduced. Well well, I am in luck!

The VeloDrone was already regretting that he had revealed himself.

In luck, he said faintly.

Yes, said Margaret. Because I'm learning French.

Aha, said The VeloDrone. David is excellent at French. Shall we go down?

They went down the zigzag path and found Le Bon David snoozing in the sun.

Bonjour David, said Margaret. Comment ca va?

Pardon? said David, waking suddenly. Oh Margaret. It's you. Why are you speaking in French?

Margaret is taking lessons, said The Velodrone quickly. And she's heard that you speak excellent French.

I speak excellent French for a Scotsman, said Le Bon David. Vello here is your man if you want a native speaker.

And here's something that will amuse you, David, said The VeloDrone. She thinks you're too fat to be me.

What does she mean? said Le Bon David. I've lost weight since I rode in the Tour de France.

You rode in the Tour de France! said Margaret. Now I'm really in luck. I'm thinking of buying a bicycle....

I think it's time we got back to the Field Geologists picnic, said Le Bon David. We were going to introduce you to Gaius. He rides a bicycle too.

Really? said Margaret. Tell me, your friend Gaius, is he married at all?

Picky Picky

Picky, picky, said Margaret.

I thought you were trying to be nicer, said The VeloDrone.

This is me being nicer, said Margaret. Now, would you two like to reconsider and climb up to look at the Tjilbruke Monument? It's worth it.

But it's so steep, said Le Bon David. Look at all those vertical steps.

We don't have to go up the vertical steps, said Margaret. We can go up the zigzag path and look at the plants on the way.

Oh alright, said The VeloDrone. I'm in. What about you David?

No, I'll wait down here, said Le Bon David. Tell me about it when you get back.

Margaret and The Velodrone zigzagged up the path, past various dead plants, and prickles of interest. At the top they were rewarded by the sight of a huge stone monument, made up of five stones, representing Old Tjilbruke carrying the dead Kulultiwi.

This monument has been here since 1972, said Margaret. The sculptor John Dowie said he found the stones at Tungkillo, lying near one another, as though the sculpture was simply waiting to be assembled.

Eerie, said The VeloDrone. And what's the rock?

Gneiss, said Margaret.

I thought it was meant to be his nephew, said The Velodrone.

Food for Thought

Margaret seemed to acquiesce. They walked over to the Kingston Caravan Park cafe where Le Bon David ordered a smoked salmon and avocado foccaccia and The VeloDrone ordered salami with semidried tomato. Margaret took a bottle of water from her backpack.

Now, said Le Bon David, tell us the story of Old Tjilbruke.

It's a story from the Dreamtime of the Kaurna people, said Margaret. This is their traditional country. The story explains how the seven freshwater springs between here and Rapid Bay came into existence.

Aha, said Le Bon David. Here's our food! Go on, Margaret.

Old Tjilbrike was a man of the law, continued Margaret. One day his nephew Kulultuwi killed an emu that should have been Tjilbruke's to kill. Tjilbruke forgave his nephew, but some time later Kulultuwi was killed by his two half brothers for breaking the law, or so they claimed. Tjilbruke being a man of the law had to determine whether the killing was legal.

Let me guess, said The VeloDrone, picking at a slice of salami. He found it was illegal.

Yes, said Margaret. He judged it to be murder. So he speared the two brothers and burned them. This happened at Warriparinga, not far from here. Then Tjilbruke carried the partly smoked and dried body of his nephew here to the spring to complete the smoking.

Le Bon David swallowed a piece of smoked salmon thoughtfully. The VeloDrone chewed on a sundried tomato.

Then, said Margaret, he carried the body all the way down the coast to Rapid Bay, for burial in a cave. Many times on the way he wept, overcome by sadness, for he had loved his nephew. In the seven places where Tjilbruke wept seven freshwater springs were formed. After that Tjilbruke no longer wanted to live as a man. His spirit became a bird, the tjilbruke, or glossy ibis, and his body became a rocky outcrop of iron pyrites somewhere north of Nairne.

Bravo the Kaurna people! A wonderful multi-layered story, said The VeloDrone.

Indeed, said Le Bon David. A story of creation, the law, human relationships.....

But there's one thing wrong with it, said The VeloDrone.

What's that? asked Margaret, taking a sip of spring water.

I thought human tears were salty, said The VeloDrone.

Getting On

Lick it! said Le Bon David. Lick the sand?

Well, you don't have to lick it, said Margaret, but you could.

Why would we? asked The VeloDrone.

Because, said Margaret grandly, it is wet with the waters of a natural freshwater spring! Come with me, and I'll show you.

They walked a little further round the bay. The sand looked rather powdery and dry.

Oh dear, said Margaret. You can see it sometimes. Perhaps it's better in the evening. The freshwater seeps out through the sand and drains into the sea. They say it's the tears of Old Tjilbruke.

She waited for The VeloDrone or Le Bon David to ask her about Old Tjilbruke, but neither of them seemed inclined to do so.

Is that the cafe over there? asked Le Bon David. I rather fancy a nice filled foccaccia, or baguette.

And a coffee, said The VeloDrone.

Margaret looked mightily put out.

Oh, come on, Margaret, said The VeloDrone. You can tell us about Old Tjilbruke later.

Before we do that, she said, I thought we might climb up the hill to the Tjilbruke monument, and see the interesting native vegetation on the way.

She gestured towards the hill. It was small enough but the path looked rather steep.

Margaret, said Le Bon David, I think it's time we had a little talk.

No,no, said Margaret. I know what you're going to say. I always end up overdoing things and driving people mad. I think perhaps they find me rather bossy.

She looked as though she might be going to cry.

There, there, said Le Bon David. Do you know what I think, Margaret? I think we should go to the cafe and have something to eat while you tell us the story of Old Tjilbruke.

Absolutely, agreed The VeloDrone. Then, we should wander back to the Field Geologists' picnic. I think we ought to introduce you to our good friend Gaius. I have a feeling that you and he would get on swimmingly.

of the....

We're not sitting on rocks! said Margaret crossly.

No, we're sitting on a hard wooden plank, said Le Bon David. I do know the difference. I was merely observing that sand is much nicer to sit on.

I agree with you there, said The VeloDrone. But only in part.

How's that? asked Le Bon David.

It's important to have a rest for the back, said The VeloDrone. Otherwise one can't sit for long. I have often had recourse to digging a small hole, with a pleasantly angled bottom, and a heap of sand for a back rest. That I find is quite comfortable.

As long as the sand is not damp, said Le Bon David.

Agreed, said The VeloDrone. It is advisable to cover it with a large beach towel.

Yes, one should always remember a beach towel, said Le Bon David. As well as a spade.

Is this what philosophers talk about? scoffed Margaret. Here we are, in the midst of the Contemplation, and you're on about beach towels and spades! Do you realise you're sitting on the words of a Croatian poet?

Sorry, Margaret, said The VeloDrone, looking down at the text in the wood.

But Margaret was sitting on it, which made it difficult to read.

"of the....." read The VeloDrone.

Never mind, said Margaret. You two like damp sand. You'll get damp sand. Come with me.

We don't like damp sand, said Le Bon David mildly. We just said.

No matter, said Margaret. You don't sit on this sand, you just lick it.

The Contemplation

Margaret strode ahead of them along the cliff path.

Phew! said Le Bon David. What a bossy woman!

Come on, said The VeloDrone. We'd better catch up. The sooner we see the Contemplation the sooner we'll get something to eat.

They caught up to Margaret, who had descended into a small bay in which they could see a ship's mast, an upturned cement boat and a flat wooden panel inscribed with text.

Oh no, groaned Le Bon David. Another artwork!

Sit down here, said Margaret. Isn't this tranquil. It's the Contemplation. It is the work of Marjiana Tadic, and it represents the relationships between cultural groups and individuals with the surrounding environment.

Lovely, said The VeloDrone. A sort of shipwreck.

They sat down on the flat panel and contemplated the Contemplation.

Look! said David. It's much nicer around the bend there! It even looks like there might be some sand!

You like sand? asked Margaret. Then you are a geologist after all.

I't's better than rocks, said Le Bon David. You can sit on it comfortably.

Appreciating the Paleoshoreline

They climbed the wooden steps to the cliff path where Margaret pointed to a lookout with a seat.

We'll sit there for a few minutes, she said. I'll point out some of the geological features to you.

Ahuff..ahuff, puffed Le Bon David. Good idea. I could do with a seat.

Here you see something of the late Precambrian Marinoan sequence, said Margaret. Due to strongly fluctuating sea levels we see silt depositions and thin sandstone intervals along the paleoshoreline....

What's that? asked The VeloDrone.

Excuse me? said Margaret sharply. Don't you know?

No, we are not geologists, said The VeloDrone. Are you talking about those rocks down there?

Yes, said Le Bon David. Are you? Because they just look like small dull-coloured irregular rocks of no particular interest....

Shame on you, said Margaret. You must be looking at the wrong rocks!

I prefer to look at the sea, said Le Bon David. The way it heaves and swells, how it glitters and sparkles, and changes colour with the passing clouds.

David, said The VeloDrone, I have never known you to appreciate the sea.

You've never known me to have so little else to appreciate, said Le Bon David. At least at Port Elliot we saw whales. And then, there were those delicious pies....

Pies! snapped Margaret. You'll get pies! But first I'm determined to get you excited about our coastal landscape! Come on, get up! We're going down to see the Contemplation.

The Exeloo

Margaret was the bossy type.

First we'll visit the toilet, she said.

I don't need to go, said The VeloDrone. Do you, David?

No, said Le Bon David.

Nor do I, said Margaret. But a visit to the Marino Rocks Exeloo is not to be missed.

Lead on then, Margaret, said The VeloDrone.

Margaret led them around the corner to a public toilet colourfully decorated with mosaics in a triangular design with a coastal theme, featuring cliffs, walking trails, rocks, fish, boats, leafy sea dragons, seabirds, seals and a mermaid.

You see! she said, pointing to Exeloo. This wonderful artwork was completed by local residents in 2006. It is entitled Celebrating our Coast and was designed by the artist Michael Tye. The theme is the cycle of nature and the nature of edges.

The cycle of nature, said Le Bon David. On a toilet. A rare insight.

And the nature of edges, said The VeloDrone. In that case, one might hesitate to enter and sit down.

People usually say that they love the sea creatures, and the mermaid, said Margaret, disapprovingly.

We are philosophers, said Le Bon David. Not naturalists, or artists. I say! Is that a cafe over there?

It is, said Margaret, but we aren't going there.

But it's so close, said Le Bon David. We don't need to do the cliff walk to Kingston if we go there.

No no! Far too expensive! sniffed Margaret, Come on now. Up the steps! Chip chop! Unless you've changed your mind about the loo.

My Name's Margaret.

It was the day of the Field Geologists picnic. They met in the city and all piled onto the hired bus. Gaius sat next to the president. The VeloDrone and Le Bon David sat behind them.

Where are we going again? asked The VeloDrone.

Who knows? said Le Bon David, glumly. Somewhere rocky, no doubt.

He tapped Gaius on the shoulder.

Where are we going? he asked.

Marino Rocks, said Gaius. A fascinating geological site. Isn't that right? he nudged the president.

Oh yes, said the president. Very fascinating. Of course we've all been there before. Many times. Today is really all about having fun.

Gaius frowned.

Fun? said The VeloDrone. That sounds more like it. What sort of fun?

Well, said the president, we'll be looking for the spot where you can stand with one foot in the Permian and one in the Pre-Cambrian.

Oh, said The VeloDrone. Super!

........

They arrived at Marino Rocks. Everyone got out of the bus. The Field Geologists adjusted their backpacks, put on their hats and prepared to spread out. The beach was very rocky, and there was nowhere to sit down.

There's nowhere to sit down! protested Le Bon David.

You aren't supposed to sit down, said Gaius. Look at all this wonderful geology! What a spectacle! Go and spread out, like the others.

I thought it was a picnic, said Le Bon David. I'm feeling rather peckish already.

Well, eat your own picnic now, said Gaius crossly.

My own picnic, said Le Bon David. I thought I was a guest at this thing!

You are, said Gaius, but if you didn't pre-order a chicken, you had to bring your own food.

Wonderful, said Le Bon David. I haven't pre-ordered a chicken and neither has Vello. What shall we do?

I don't know, said Gaius. If it was me, I'd do without.

You invited us, said Le Bon David. Why don't you do without, and give us your chicken.

I'll share my chicken with you, said Gaius, but the picnic isn't till later.

I say, said a lady Field Geologist. I couldn't help overhearing. If you want to buy something to eat, take the cliff walk back to the caravan park at Kingston. It's that way, she added, pointing north. I'll come with you. By the way, my name's Margaret.