Hyperboreans

So that's the end of Wittgenstein and Saint Nicholas? said Pliny the Elder.

Yes, I suppose so, I said.

Good, said Pliny.

Why? I asked. I've grown to like them. I could probably keep on writing about them for ever.

I'm certain you could, said Pliny. And it was all very well during the holiday period, but there are more serious things to write about than philosophy, icecreams and paintball.

What do you have in mind? I asked.

Well, said Pliny. I'm glad that you've asked. I couldn't help noticing that you received a copy of my Natural History for Christmas. How are you liking it so far?

I think Professor Healy has done a good job, I said. I expected he would have chosen to present only the most interesting parts of your work, but he's given us quite a lot of the tedious stuff as well.

What tedious stuff? asked Pliny.

Geography, I said, for example. And it's all wrong.

It may be all wrong now, said Pliny, but it was all right at the time. Where are you up to?

The Hyperboreans, I replied. I'm enjoying reading about them. "Death does not come until they have had their fill of life. Setting a banquet, they greet their old age with luxury, and then leap into the sea from a certain rock. This method of burial is the most serene." It's all in the way that you tell it, of course.

Thank you , said Pliny. I'm aware of that.