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.