Was that question for me? asked Professor Barnsley.
No it was for me, said The Velodrone. I must apologise for my friends. They misheard something I said.
Easily done, said Professor Barnsley. But does anyone have a question for me?
Fortunately for Professor Barnsley, someone did have a question. It came from the balcony upstairs.
Professor, said the person from the balcony upstairs, do you think the priciples of superfractals could be applied to musical composition?
Professor Barnsley considered a moment.
No, he said. And that is because I am a person who doesn't get music. I get mathematics and art, but I have a tin ear.
The professor answered several more questions and the event drew to a close. Everyone stood up to go home.
I'll have one more try, said The VeloDrone. He approached the professor. Le Bon David and Belle et Bonne sat down again.
I was interested to hear that you have a tin ear, said The VeloDrone.
Everyone is interested to hear that, said the professor. It's odd I suppose. But I don't mind a spot of poetry. What was that question your friends were asking you? About Milton?
Oh, that! said The VeloDrone. They meant Newton.
Oh, Newton! said the professor. They don't sound alike.
No they don't, agreed The Velodrone, wondering how he was going to steer the conversation back to bicycles without mentioning Oxford again. He looked hopefully towards David. David stood up and strolled over.
My friend Le Bon David has a tin ear as well, said The Velodrone.
Oh I say! said Le Bon David hotly. Who's the one who attends lunch hour concerts?
Do you indeed? said Professor Barnsley. I hear they have wonderful concerts in Adelaide.
Yes, David goes on his bicycle, said The VeloDrone.
Are they held out of doors? asked the professor.
No, no, said Le Bon David. I get off and go in, leaving my bicycle outside.
There was a silence, while they thought about that.
Belle et Bonne had been listening. They weren't getting anywhere. Suddenly she had an idea.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Fractal Thoughts in the Second Half
Professor Barnsley began the second part of his talk. The VeloDrone, Le Bon David and Belle et Bonne were not listening. They were absorbed in their thoughts.
Belle et Bonne was thinking:
Wish I hadn't said that. About underwear. I wish I'd said something more intellectual. I could have. Fractals are like the proof of Pythagorus's Theorem. The one where you draw four little triangles the same, on each side of a square. That's geometry. He would have liked that. Papa was cross. What was he saying about London? He met Milton? How could he? Milton was dead when papa went to London. He must have meant Newton.
Le Bon David was thinking:
Why didn't I get myself another glass of wine? Instead of looking at that silly camera. Too late now. Did Vello say he'd met Milton? It couldn't have been Milton. Perhaps he meant Newton. But he hasn't met Newton. He would have told me if he'd met Newton. Just like Vello to make something up.
The VeloDrone was thinking:
What did I say just then? Did I say I met Milton? A slip of the tongue. I meant Newton. Or was it? I mean, did I? I didn't meet Newton, he died. I met his sister, Miss Newton. She told me the story about the apple. It wasn't true, but it was funny. And I put it about.
Any questions? asked Professor Barnsley.
Belle et Bonne and Le Bon David turned to The VeloDrone.
Did you say you'd met MILTON? they asked.
Belle et Bonne was thinking:
Wish I hadn't said that. About underwear. I wish I'd said something more intellectual. I could have. Fractals are like the proof of Pythagorus's Theorem. The one where you draw four little triangles the same, on each side of a square. That's geometry. He would have liked that. Papa was cross. What was he saying about London? He met Milton? How could he? Milton was dead when papa went to London. He must have meant Newton.
Le Bon David was thinking:
Why didn't I get myself another glass of wine? Instead of looking at that silly camera. Too late now. Did Vello say he'd met Milton? It couldn't have been Milton. Perhaps he meant Newton. But he hasn't met Newton. He would have told me if he'd met Newton. Just like Vello to make something up.
The VeloDrone was thinking:
What did I say just then? Did I say I met Milton? A slip of the tongue. I meant Newton. Or was it? I mean, did I? I didn't meet Newton, he died. I met his sister, Miss Newton. She told me the story about the apple. It wasn't true, but it was funny. And I put it about.
Any questions? asked Professor Barnsley.
Belle et Bonne and Le Bon David turned to The VeloDrone.
Did you say you'd met MILTON? they asked.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Inventing the Bicycle
Professor Barnsley was silent for a moment. He appeared to be having a brainwave.
Everything stretches with time! he declared.
Brilliant! said Belle et Bonne. You've invented a new maths axiom!
I was thinking of underwear, said the professor. I know mine does.
Oh I see, said Belle et Bonne.
You must get off the stage now, all of you, said the professor. I have to finish my talk.
He shooed them off the stage. The VeloDrone, Le Bon David and Belle et Bonne resumed their seats near the front.
Underwear! said The VeloDrone. Belle et Bonne, you have ruined my ploy.
Sorry papa, said Belle et Bonne. But your ploy wasn't working. He was just about to find out you hadn't been to Oxford.
It wouldn't have mattered, said The VeloDrone. He has ridden a bicycle. He has even fractalised one, or whatever the process is called.
Well I'm sure everything will be alright then, said Belle et Bonne. What do you think, Uncle David?
He says everything stretches with time? said Le Bon David slowly. I don't think he's right.
He was talking about underwear though, said Belle et Bonne. And I think he's right.
Mine seems to get tighter, said Le Bon David.
We're not talking about underwear, said The VeloDrone.
No, said Belle et Bonne We were talking about papa's ploy.
It wasn't working. said Le Bon David. That's why I came up.
You interrupted, said The VeloDrone. You changed the subject. I was buttering him up. Telling him how much I liked England.
When did you go to England? asked Le Bon David. Remind me.
As a young man, said The VeloDrone. I was exiled from Paris. I went to London, and met Pope, Swift and Milton.
That long ago? said Le Bon David. So you INVENTED the bicycle?
They all started giggling.
Shhh! said a lady behind them.
Everything stretches with time! he declared.
Brilliant! said Belle et Bonne. You've invented a new maths axiom!
I was thinking of underwear, said the professor. I know mine does.
Oh I see, said Belle et Bonne.
You must get off the stage now, all of you, said the professor. I have to finish my talk.
He shooed them off the stage. The VeloDrone, Le Bon David and Belle et Bonne resumed their seats near the front.
Underwear! said The VeloDrone. Belle et Bonne, you have ruined my ploy.
Sorry papa, said Belle et Bonne. But your ploy wasn't working. He was just about to find out you hadn't been to Oxford.
It wouldn't have mattered, said The VeloDrone. He has ridden a bicycle. He has even fractalised one, or whatever the process is called.
Well I'm sure everything will be alright then, said Belle et Bonne. What do you think, Uncle David?
He says everything stretches with time? said Le Bon David slowly. I don't think he's right.
He was talking about underwear though, said Belle et Bonne. And I think he's right.
Mine seems to get tighter, said Le Bon David.
We're not talking about underwear, said The VeloDrone.
No, said Belle et Bonne We were talking about papa's ploy.
It wasn't working. said Le Bon David. That's why I came up.
You interrupted, said The VeloDrone. You changed the subject. I was buttering him up. Telling him how much I liked England.
When did you go to England? asked Le Bon David. Remind me.
As a young man, said The VeloDrone. I was exiled from Paris. I went to London, and met Pope, Swift and Milton.
That long ago? said Le Bon David. So you INVENTED the bicycle?
They all started giggling.
Shhh! said a lady behind them.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Different Orientations
Oh! When were you at Oxford? asked Professor Barnsley. I was there in the sixties, studying maths.
Mrrrm, mumbled The Velodrone, who hadn't studied at Oxford, but remembered riding a bicycle through it once.
It seems like only yesterday, he said. Lovely place...England.
Fortunately at that moment Le Bon David appeared.
I do like your Frango-Camera, he said to Professor Barnsley. What a joke it must be to make funny distorted photos of your friends!
Do you? You can get it in an app, said Professor Barnsley. It only costs two dollars ninety nine.
An app? You don't say? said Le Bon David. Unfortunately I have nothing to 'app' it to. But young Belle et Bonne might like to buy one.
Belle et Bonne joined the little group.
Hello, Professor Barnsley, she said. I'm enjoying your talk and I love your pretty pictures but I find myself a little confused about the superfractals.
Professor Barnsley sighed.
However, said Belle et Bonne, I was wondering if they weren't a bit like something that happened to me recently.
Professor Barnsley sighed again. Belle et Bonne was undeterred.
I was shopping for underwear, she said.
Hurrr-um! coughed Le Bon David, turning pink.
And I tried on several sports bras, continued Belle et Bonne. Black ones. The first one was size 8 to 10. It was really tight and the straps were way too short. So I tried a 10 to 12. It was exactly the same. So I tried a 12 to 14. I NEVER take that size.
Professor Barnsley looked at his watch.
And would you believe it, said Belle et Bonne. It was the same. Too tight and the straps too short. But the funny thing was, I didn't believe it, and I bought the 12 to 14.
Young lady, said Professor Barnsley. I don't see what this has to do with superfractals.
Different sizes, in the same shape and different orientations, said Belle et Bonne.
You stray beyond the bounds of mathematics, said Professor Barnsley.
I know, said Belle et Bonne.
Mrrrm, mumbled The Velodrone, who hadn't studied at Oxford, but remembered riding a bicycle through it once.
It seems like only yesterday, he said. Lovely place...England.
Fortunately at that moment Le Bon David appeared.
I do like your Frango-Camera, he said to Professor Barnsley. What a joke it must be to make funny distorted photos of your friends!
Do you? You can get it in an app, said Professor Barnsley. It only costs two dollars ninety nine.
An app? You don't say? said Le Bon David. Unfortunately I have nothing to 'app' it to. But young Belle et Bonne might like to buy one.
Belle et Bonne joined the little group.
Hello, Professor Barnsley, she said. I'm enjoying your talk and I love your pretty pictures but I find myself a little confused about the superfractals.
Professor Barnsley sighed.
However, said Belle et Bonne, I was wondering if they weren't a bit like something that happened to me recently.
Professor Barnsley sighed again. Belle et Bonne was undeterred.
I was shopping for underwear, she said.
Hurrr-um! coughed Le Bon David, turning pink.
And I tried on several sports bras, continued Belle et Bonne. Black ones. The first one was size 8 to 10. It was really tight and the straps were way too short. So I tried a 10 to 12. It was exactly the same. So I tried a 12 to 14. I NEVER take that size.
Professor Barnsley looked at his watch.
And would you believe it, said Belle et Bonne. It was the same. Too tight and the straps too short. But the funny thing was, I didn't believe it, and I bought the 12 to 14.
Young lady, said Professor Barnsley. I don't see what this has to do with superfractals.
Different sizes, in the same shape and different orientations, said Belle et Bonne.
You stray beyond the bounds of mathematics, said Professor Barnsley.
I know, said Belle et Bonne.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Lemons and Bicycles
The following evening they were at RIAUS, seated at a circular table near the stage, drinking white wine. An eccentric-looking man was standing at the back corner of the stage fiddling with a laptop.
This turned out to be Professor Barnsley.
Yoiks! he said, turning around to look at his audience.
Hehehe! tittered the audience, nervously. The professor was wearing old brown runners, suit pants and a blue cotton shirt with the lower button undone.
Professor Barnsley explained what superfractals were. It was something to do with clingwrap, and the Euclidean plane.
Are you good? he asked.
Yes, nodded everyone. We are good.
He showed them some artistic superfractal attractors that he had created out of ordinary photographs.
See that beautiful one on the wall over there, he said. That is lemons.
Woo! said everyone, admiringly, looking at the wall.
Later, said Professor Barnsley, we'll have a break, and you can look at my Frango-Camera.
Soon it was the break.
Belle et Bonne went over to have a closer look at the lemons. All the elements of the lemons were there in the picture that looked like a forest scene with fish and waterfalls and ferns. The longer she looked the more her brain tried to see lemons.
Le Bon David joined the crowd looking at the Frango-Camera.
The Velodrone stepped up onto the stage and went up to Professor Barnsley.
Interesting talk, said The Velodrone. Nice art.
Thanks, said the professor. Do you have a question?
Ever done one with bicycles? asked The Velodrone. I should think the two wheels would make a lovely double homeomorphism to begin with.
Yes I have, said Professor Barnsley. A Mobius transformation. Fascinatingly, the bicycle wheels remained round. Well, roundish anyway. Bicycles eh? I used to ride a bicycle when I was at Oxford.
Really? said The VeloDrone. So did I.
This turned out to be Professor Barnsley.
Yoiks! he said, turning around to look at his audience.
Hehehe! tittered the audience, nervously. The professor was wearing old brown runners, suit pants and a blue cotton shirt with the lower button undone.
Professor Barnsley explained what superfractals were. It was something to do with clingwrap, and the Euclidean plane.
Are you good? he asked.
Yes, nodded everyone. We are good.
He showed them some artistic superfractal attractors that he had created out of ordinary photographs.
See that beautiful one on the wall over there, he said. That is lemons.
Woo! said everyone, admiringly, looking at the wall.
Later, said Professor Barnsley, we'll have a break, and you can look at my Frango-Camera.
Soon it was the break.
Belle et Bonne went over to have a closer look at the lemons. All the elements of the lemons were there in the picture that looked like a forest scene with fish and waterfalls and ferns. The longer she looked the more her brain tried to see lemons.
Le Bon David joined the crowd looking at the Frango-Camera.
The Velodrone stepped up onto the stage and went up to Professor Barnsley.
Interesting talk, said The Velodrone. Nice art.
Thanks, said the professor. Do you have a question?
Ever done one with bicycles? asked The Velodrone. I should think the two wheels would make a lovely double homeomorphism to begin with.
Yes I have, said Professor Barnsley. A Mobius transformation. Fascinatingly, the bicycle wheels remained round. Well, roundish anyway. Bicycles eh? I used to ride a bicycle when I was at Oxford.
Really? said The VeloDrone. So did I.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Who Didn't Ride a Bike
Do I really look like a spider? said Le Bon David. I'm flattered, Belle et Bonne.
Why? asked The Velodrone. Surely you're supposed to look like a barnacle.
True, said Le Bon David. But spiders have thin legs.
You don't, said The VeloDrone.
That's why I'm flattered, said Le Bon David,
Who taught you the barnacle dance, Uncle David? asked Belle et Bonne. Was it that Senegalese musician?
Ziggi? No, said Le Bon David. It was that Darwin chappie. He's heavily into barnacles.
Darwin? The VeloDrone's ears pricked up. Charles Darwin?
Yes, said Le Bon David. Why?
Does he ride a bicycle? asked The VeloDrone?
I don't think so, said David. I could ask him, if he hasn't left the country.
Ask him anyway, said The VeloDrone. It would be a coup for us if Darwin wrote an article for Velosophy.
So it would, said David. I shall get in touch with him.
He did another little barnacle jig, bending his knees and inching sideways in a circularity towards the diminishing prawns.
I suppose we should be going home, said The VeloDrone. This genome thing was interesting but it hasn't won us any contributions.
You shouldn't have teased Professor Snyder, said Belle et Bonne. He may have ridden a bicycle, but you'll never know.
We'll have better luck tomorrow, said The VeloDrone.
At the Superfractals talk at RIAUS? said Belle et Bonne. I'm glad you're confident, papa.
I am, said The VeloDrone. I never met a geometer yet who didn't ride a bike.
Why? asked The Velodrone. Surely you're supposed to look like a barnacle.
True, said Le Bon David. But spiders have thin legs.
You don't, said The VeloDrone.
That's why I'm flattered, said Le Bon David,
Who taught you the barnacle dance, Uncle David? asked Belle et Bonne. Was it that Senegalese musician?
Ziggi? No, said Le Bon David. It was that Darwin chappie. He's heavily into barnacles.
Darwin? The VeloDrone's ears pricked up. Charles Darwin?
Yes, said Le Bon David. Why?
Does he ride a bicycle? asked The VeloDrone?
I don't think so, said David. I could ask him, if he hasn't left the country.
Ask him anyway, said The VeloDrone. It would be a coup for us if Darwin wrote an article for Velosophy.
So it would, said David. I shall get in touch with him.
He did another little barnacle jig, bending his knees and inching sideways in a circularity towards the diminishing prawns.
I suppose we should be going home, said The VeloDrone. This genome thing was interesting but it hasn't won us any contributions.
You shouldn't have teased Professor Snyder, said Belle et Bonne. He may have ridden a bicycle, but you'll never know.
We'll have better luck tomorrow, said The VeloDrone.
At the Superfractals talk at RIAUS? said Belle et Bonne. I'm glad you're confident, papa.
I am, said The VeloDrone. I never met a geometer yet who didn't ride a bike.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Four Hapless Little Prawns and a Spider
They were on their second glass of white wine.
Belle et Bonne picked a prawn from the top of the pyramid and dangled it in the air.
Hello little prawn, she said. I wonder if you've had your genome mapped?
Without waiting for an answer she popped it into her mouth.
Oh yummy, she said. It's drenched in mango, lime and coriander.
She picked up a second little prawn.
Have I had my genome mapped? said the second little prawn. I could tell you.....
Gulp. Too late! Belle and Bonne had swallowed it, but not before she'd noticed something strange.
Did my prawn say something? she asked.
Yes, said The VeloDrone. How very remarkable. David, did you hear what Belle's prawn said?
No, said David, picking up a prawn. Did you say something little prawn? He dangled it in front of his eyes and stared.
Yes, said the third little prawn. The CSIRO has mapped our genomes.
Remarkable, said The VeloDrone again. Why did they do that?
But before the little prawn could answer, David had bitten off its head.
The VeloDrone picked up another glass of white wine, and a fourth hapless prawn.
You don't give us much chance, said the fourth hapless prawn.
I'm giving you a chance right now, said The VeloDrone. Tell me why the CSIRO have mapped your genome, before I eat you.
It's so that they can enhance our economically important traits, our size and taste, said the hapless prawn. But a fat lot of use that is to us. In fact it is the opposite of useful.
I was just going to say the same thing, said The VeloDrone, as he bit into the hapless prawn.
David was on his third glass of white wine. He did a little jig.
Is that the barnacle dance? asked Belle et Bonne.
I do believe it is, said Le Bon David.
You look just like a spider, said Belle et Bonne.
Belle et Bonne picked a prawn from the top of the pyramid and dangled it in the air.
Hello little prawn, she said. I wonder if you've had your genome mapped?
Without waiting for an answer she popped it into her mouth.
Oh yummy, she said. It's drenched in mango, lime and coriander.
She picked up a second little prawn.
Have I had my genome mapped? said the second little prawn. I could tell you.....
Gulp. Too late! Belle and Bonne had swallowed it, but not before she'd noticed something strange.
Did my prawn say something? she asked.
Yes, said The VeloDrone. How very remarkable. David, did you hear what Belle's prawn said?
No, said David, picking up a prawn. Did you say something little prawn? He dangled it in front of his eyes and stared.
Yes, said the third little prawn. The CSIRO has mapped our genomes.
Remarkable, said The VeloDrone again. Why did they do that?
But before the little prawn could answer, David had bitten off its head.
The VeloDrone picked up another glass of white wine, and a fourth hapless prawn.
You don't give us much chance, said the fourth hapless prawn.
I'm giving you a chance right now, said The VeloDrone. Tell me why the CSIRO have mapped your genome, before I eat you.
It's so that they can enhance our economically important traits, our size and taste, said the hapless prawn. But a fat lot of use that is to us. In fact it is the opposite of useful.
I was just going to say the same thing, said The VeloDrone, as he bit into the hapless prawn.
David was on his third glass of white wine. He did a little jig.
Is that the barnacle dance? asked Belle et Bonne.
I do believe it is, said Le Bon David.
You look just like a spider, said Belle et Bonne.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
A Long Dissertation Ending With Prawns
The lecture theatre was almost full. It seemed everyone was interested in genomes.
Professor Snyder was an American, from Stanford. He was genial, and chatty. He asked the audience who had had their genome mapped already. A few raised their hands
He then asked who would like to. Another few put up their hands.
And who wouldn't? Another few.
Well, said Professor Snyder. It's not for everyone.
He went on to explain how useful genome mapping could be. He had mapped himself and discovered diabetic tendencies. However he admitted he would not have been so happy to have discovered he was likely to get Huntington's Disease.
We will soon be able to tailor drugs to people according to their individual genomes, said Professor Snyder. We can already do it in the case of certain diseases.
He finished his talk and everyone filed up stairs for refreshments.
Wow! said Belle et Bonne, picking up a glass of wine and a tiny pumpkin and olive tart. Imagine tailoring drugs to individual cases. How much time it would save!
Admirable, agreed The VeloDrone. But I have no wish to have my genome mapped.
It's far too late for us, said Le Bon David.
Nonsense, said Belle et Bonne. History doesn't always repeat itself. I want to get mine done.
Good luck, my dear. I believe it's quite expensive, said The VeloDrone.
No, it's getting cheaper all the time, said a voice. It was Professor Snyder.
Professor Snyder! We were just saying........said Belle et Bonne
I heard you, said Professor Snyder. And would it be too rude to ask why you two gentlemen are not interested in your genomes? I always like to know what people are thinking.
We already know our medical histories, said David. I died in 1776, aged sixty five, of a stomach related cancer, and my friend here, The VeloDrone, died in 1778, aged eighty four, of......errr.... what did you die of again, Vello?
What do you mean again? said The VeloDrone. You don't know, David. You died two years before me. I died of..... errr.. old age. Yes, that's what it must have been.
Ahem! coughed Professor Snyder. Perhaps you will excuse me gentlemen. I see someone I must talk to over there.
Belle et Bonne giggled.
He couldn't wait to get away, she said.
I can't think why, said TheVeloDrone.
Perhaps he saw the prawns coming out, said Belle et Bonne.
Professor Snyder was an American, from Stanford. He was genial, and chatty. He asked the audience who had had their genome mapped already. A few raised their hands
He then asked who would like to. Another few put up their hands.
And who wouldn't? Another few.
Well, said Professor Snyder. It's not for everyone.
He went on to explain how useful genome mapping could be. He had mapped himself and discovered diabetic tendencies. However he admitted he would not have been so happy to have discovered he was likely to get Huntington's Disease.
We will soon be able to tailor drugs to people according to their individual genomes, said Professor Snyder. We can already do it in the case of certain diseases.
He finished his talk and everyone filed up stairs for refreshments.
Wow! said Belle et Bonne, picking up a glass of wine and a tiny pumpkin and olive tart. Imagine tailoring drugs to individual cases. How much time it would save!
Admirable, agreed The VeloDrone. But I have no wish to have my genome mapped.
It's far too late for us, said Le Bon David.
Nonsense, said Belle et Bonne. History doesn't always repeat itself. I want to get mine done.
Good luck, my dear. I believe it's quite expensive, said The VeloDrone.
No, it's getting cheaper all the time, said a voice. It was Professor Snyder.
Professor Snyder! We were just saying........said Belle et Bonne
I heard you, said Professor Snyder. And would it be too rude to ask why you two gentlemen are not interested in your genomes? I always like to know what people are thinking.
We already know our medical histories, said David. I died in 1776, aged sixty five, of a stomach related cancer, and my friend here, The VeloDrone, died in 1778, aged eighty four, of......errr.... what did you die of again, Vello?
What do you mean again? said The VeloDrone. You don't know, David. You died two years before me. I died of..... errr.. old age. Yes, that's what it must have been.
Ahem! coughed Professor Snyder. Perhaps you will excuse me gentlemen. I see someone I must talk to over there.
Belle et Bonne giggled.
He couldn't wait to get away, she said.
I can't think why, said TheVeloDrone.
Perhaps he saw the prawns coming out, said Belle et Bonne.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Intellectual Curiosity
Le Bon David arrived at the office late next morning.
Oh there you are, Uncle David, said Belle et Bonne. How did you enjoy the Fringe? Would you like coffee and a macaron? Sit down, you look a bit pale.
No, no, said David. I'm perfectly fine. Just overdid the African dancing last night.
African dancing? said The VeloDrone. Hee Hee! I wish I'd seen you. Did you do your usual dance?
What's your usual dance, Uncle David? asked Belle et Bonne, placing a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of red, green and yellow macarons in front of David.
A Philosopher's Dance, said David. But I learned a couple of new ones. One was a Barnacle dance
Show us! demanded The VeloDrone. Come on get up, man! Or are you doing it now? A barnacle doesn't move much.
No, said David, scoffing down his fourth macaron. I'm in no fit state. Some other time. I say, these macarons are good, Belle et Bonne. Do you have any more?
No, said Belle et Bonne.
So what's been going on in the world of work? said David. How's the next edition shaping up?
It isn't, said The VeloDrone. No contributors. We're in a flat spot. I'm looking for some new ideas. In fact Belle et Bonne and I are going to a lecture tonight on genomics. Want to come with us?
Where is it? asked David. UniSA?
Yes, said The VeloDrone. There will be refreshments and finger food afterwards.
I shall probably come then, said David. I don't like dry lectures.
Uncle David! said Belle et Bonne. A philosopher is interested in ideas, not finger food.
My dear, said David. I am interested in ideas. Remind me, what are genomics?
Oh you know, said Belle et Bonne. DNA and all that. Strings of instructions. Getting your genome mapped and finding out what you're likely to die of.
No use to me, said David. I already know what I died of.
So do I, said The VeloDrone. But I'm still going.
I'm going too, said David. Never let it be said that I lack intellectual curiosity.
Precisely, said The Velodrone.
Oh there you are, Uncle David, said Belle et Bonne. How did you enjoy the Fringe? Would you like coffee and a macaron? Sit down, you look a bit pale.
No, no, said David. I'm perfectly fine. Just overdid the African dancing last night.
African dancing? said The VeloDrone. Hee Hee! I wish I'd seen you. Did you do your usual dance?
What's your usual dance, Uncle David? asked Belle et Bonne, placing a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of red, green and yellow macarons in front of David.
A Philosopher's Dance, said David. But I learned a couple of new ones. One was a Barnacle dance
Show us! demanded The VeloDrone. Come on get up, man! Or are you doing it now? A barnacle doesn't move much.
No, said David, scoffing down his fourth macaron. I'm in no fit state. Some other time. I say, these macarons are good, Belle et Bonne. Do you have any more?
No, said Belle et Bonne.
So what's been going on in the world of work? said David. How's the next edition shaping up?
It isn't, said The VeloDrone. No contributors. We're in a flat spot. I'm looking for some new ideas. In fact Belle et Bonne and I are going to a lecture tonight on genomics. Want to come with us?
Where is it? asked David. UniSA?
Yes, said The VeloDrone. There will be refreshments and finger food afterwards.
I shall probably come then, said David. I don't like dry lectures.
Uncle David! said Belle et Bonne. A philosopher is interested in ideas, not finger food.
My dear, said David. I am interested in ideas. Remind me, what are genomics?
Oh you know, said Belle et Bonne. DNA and all that. Strings of instructions. Getting your genome mapped and finding out what you're likely to die of.
No use to me, said David. I already know what I died of.
So do I, said The VeloDrone. But I'm still going.
I'm going too, said David. Never let it be said that I lack intellectual curiosity.
Precisely, said The Velodrone.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
What Dance Will David Do?
David's hopes are about to be confounded. The drums beat even more persuasively. Mrs Hume turns her back on the rest of the dancers. She is facing the stage. She shakes her bottom with joyful abandon. David groans and covers his eyes.
When he opens them Darwin and Faraday have joined the dancers. They are already beginning to jiggle and sway.
Come up, come up! says Ziggi, pointing at Darwin. Darwin jiggles to the front.
What's your name? asks Ziggi.
Charles, says Darwin.
Give it up for CHARLES! says Ziggi. Everyone applauds. The drums beat faster. Bebe-yo!
Charles does his Barnacle Dance. O-bebe-yo-la! Bebe-yo!
Come up! Come up, says Ziggi, pointing to Faraday. What's your name?
Michael! says Faraday, looking shy.
Don't be shy! yells Ziggi. Give it up for MICHAEL!
The drums beat an insistent rhythm. Faraday invents an intricate Candle Dance. Bebe-yo! O-bebe-yo-la!
Come up! Come up! says Ziggi. He is pointing at David. David considers. He gets up and comes to the front.
What's your name? asks Ziggi.
Le Bon David, says David.
Yo! says Ziggi. Give it up for BON DAVID!
The drums are drumming frantically. Bebe-yo!
What dance will David do? He only knows one dance.
The Philosopher's Dance.
When he opens them Darwin and Faraday have joined the dancers. They are already beginning to jiggle and sway.
Come up, come up! says Ziggi, pointing at Darwin. Darwin jiggles to the front.
What's your name? asks Ziggi.
Charles, says Darwin.
Give it up for CHARLES! says Ziggi. Everyone applauds. The drums beat faster. Bebe-yo!
Charles does his Barnacle Dance. O-bebe-yo-la! Bebe-yo!
Come up! Come up, says Ziggi, pointing to Faraday. What's your name?
Michael! says Faraday, looking shy.
Don't be shy! yells Ziggi. Give it up for MICHAEL!
The drums beat an insistent rhythm. Faraday invents an intricate Candle Dance. Bebe-yo! O-bebe-yo-la!
Come up! Come up! says Ziggi. He is pointing at David. David considers. He gets up and comes to the front.
What's your name? asks Ziggi.
Le Bon David, says David.
Yo! says Ziggi. Give it up for BON DAVID!
The drums are drumming frantically. Bebe-yo!
What dance will David do? He only knows one dance.
The Philosopher's Dance.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Bebeyo
The following evening, David, Mrs Hume, Charles Darwin and Michael Faraday meet outside the House of Africa on Gilbert Street. Several people are standing outside chatting. Some are already inside.
Hello, Mr Darwin, Mr Faraday, says Mrs Hume. Shall we all go in?
Yes, says Darwin, leading the way.
A man at a desk just inside the door gives everyone a red stamp on the back of their hand.
Woop! says Mrs Hume. My own red stamp!
They all troop in.
Where's the bar? asks David, looking around.
There is no bar, says Darwin, only water.
Humph! says David, glumly. I hope the music's good.
Ziggi and his band are on stage doing a sound check. Something is wrong. There is too much feedback from the kora. They mess around for ages. Bmmmmmmm.
Finally they get it right. They disappear for quarter of an hour. They come back.
Hello! says Ziggi. My name is Ziggi. And this is my band, Heart of Africa.We are going to make you dance and clap and sing.
They begin to play. The African rhythms are infectious. People get up to dance. Ziggi plays a song called Bebeyo. He teaches everyone the words. Bebe-yo! O-bebe-yo-la! Bebe-yo! O-bebe-yo-la!
Come up, come up, says Ziggi. He points to Mrs Hume. She gets up at once and shimmies to the front.
What's your name? says Ziggi.
Mrs Hume, says Mrs Hume.
Give it up for Mrs Hume! says Ziggi. Everyone applauds.
The drums beat faster and faster. Mrs Hume is facing the other dancers who have cleared a space for her. Her back is to the stage. She shakes her arms and sways her hips suggestively.
David looks sideways at Darwin and Faraday. They are watching his mother dancing. David hopes against hope she will not turn and make an exhibition of her bottom.
Hello, Mr Darwin, Mr Faraday, says Mrs Hume. Shall we all go in?
Yes, says Darwin, leading the way.
A man at a desk just inside the door gives everyone a red stamp on the back of their hand.
Woop! says Mrs Hume. My own red stamp!
They all troop in.
Where's the bar? asks David, looking around.
There is no bar, says Darwin, only water.
Humph! says David, glumly. I hope the music's good.
Ziggi and his band are on stage doing a sound check. Something is wrong. There is too much feedback from the kora. They mess around for ages. Bmmmmmmm.
Finally they get it right. They disappear for quarter of an hour. They come back.
Hello! says Ziggi. My name is Ziggi. And this is my band, Heart of Africa.We are going to make you dance and clap and sing.
They begin to play. The African rhythms are infectious. People get up to dance. Ziggi plays a song called Bebeyo. He teaches everyone the words. Bebe-yo! O-bebe-yo-la! Bebe-yo! O-bebe-yo-la!
Come up, come up, says Ziggi. He points to Mrs Hume. She gets up at once and shimmies to the front.
What's your name? says Ziggi.
Mrs Hume, says Mrs Hume.
Give it up for Mrs Hume! says Ziggi. Everyone applauds.
The drums beat faster and faster. Mrs Hume is facing the other dancers who have cleared a space for her. Her back is to the stage. She shakes her arms and sways her hips suggestively.
David looks sideways at Darwin and Faraday. They are watching his mother dancing. David hopes against hope she will not turn and make an exhibition of her bottom.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
She Doesn't Need Telling
David and Darwin shuffle forward.
What's this about Mr Faraday's nickname being Ziggi? says Mrs Hume. It turns out his nickname is plain Mike.
Wait a minute, says Michael Faraday. It isn't.
I thought you said it was, says Mrs Hume, exasperated.
You didn't let me finish, says Michael Faraday. I was about to point out that Mike is the more conventional nickname for someone with the name of Michael.
I don't need telling that, says Mrs Hume.
She turns to Darwin.
So who's this Ziggi you were talking about while I was in the Ladies?
Darwin is not sure whether to come clean. He looks at David.
David shakes his head.
Perhaps it's a coincidence, says Michael Faraday, but there is a Senegalese musician by the name of Ziggi playing at the House of Africa tomorrow night. I myself intend to go. I like a spot of African dancing. Why don't you all come along? It will be a wonderful way to end the Fringe.
Most certainly, we'd love to join you, Mr Faraday. Wouldn't we, David? Wouldn't we, Mr Darwin?
Yes, says David, heavily. We would.
Indeed, says Darwin, relieved..
Well good night, Mr Faraday, says Mrs Hume. We'll see you at the House of Africa tomorrow evening. What fun!
What fun, echoes David, turning to leave.
What a lucky COINCIDENCE, says Mrs Hume. Or whatever it was, she adds, as they head towards the stairs.
What's this about Mr Faraday's nickname being Ziggi? says Mrs Hume. It turns out his nickname is plain Mike.
Wait a minute, says Michael Faraday. It isn't.
I thought you said it was, says Mrs Hume, exasperated.
You didn't let me finish, says Michael Faraday. I was about to point out that Mike is the more conventional nickname for someone with the name of Michael.
I don't need telling that, says Mrs Hume.
She turns to Darwin.
So who's this Ziggi you were talking about while I was in the Ladies?
Darwin is not sure whether to come clean. He looks at David.
David shakes his head.
Perhaps it's a coincidence, says Michael Faraday, but there is a Senegalese musician by the name of Ziggi playing at the House of Africa tomorrow night. I myself intend to go. I like a spot of African dancing. Why don't you all come along? It will be a wonderful way to end the Fringe.
Most certainly, we'd love to join you, Mr Faraday. Wouldn't we, David? Wouldn't we, Mr Darwin?
Yes, says David, heavily. We would.
Indeed, says Darwin, relieved..
Well good night, Mr Faraday, says Mrs Hume. We'll see you at the House of Africa tomorrow evening. What fun!
What fun, echoes David, turning to leave.
What a lucky COINCIDENCE, says Mrs Hume. Or whatever it was, she adds, as they head towards the stairs.
Misled by Scallywags
Welcome boys and girls, says Michael Faraday. I am going to talk to you today about candles.
Did he say boys and girls? whispers Mrs Hume, looking around at the largely middle-aged audience.
Shush, Mother, says David. He's reproducing one of his famous Christmas lectures for young people.
I see, whispers Mrs Hume. And yet you insist this is all quite real.
The room is real, hisses David. The furniture is real, the curtains are real, the candles are real. But the performance is an illusion.
So you were wrong, whispers Mrs Hume,
Ahem, says Michael Faraday.
Mrs Hume subsides.
Michael Faraday introduces several different types of candles, including the beautiful and delightfully scented beeswax candle. He explains how the wick works, and demonstrates capillary action in a piece of chalk, He talks about the hottest part of the flame, and demonstrates the pattern of scorch marks on a piece of paper, which he passes around the room.
The audience is entranced. Some of them have not previously understood the interesting and scientific nature of a candle. Others have understood these things, but are nonetheless impressed by Mr Faraday's clear and engaging style of lecturing.
He receives an enthusiastic round of applause.
After the lecture, Mrs Hume goes up to speak to him.
That was a wonderful lecture, Mr Faraday, says Mrs Hume. Or may I call you Ziggi?
You may, says Michael Faraday, although it has never been my name.
Your nickname, though? says Mrs Hume.
No, says Michael Faraday. Mike is generally .....
Then I have been misled by those two scallywags! says Mrs Hume. David! Mr Darwin! come over here!
Did he say boys and girls? whispers Mrs Hume, looking around at the largely middle-aged audience.
Shush, Mother, says David. He's reproducing one of his famous Christmas lectures for young people.
I see, whispers Mrs Hume. And yet you insist this is all quite real.
The room is real, hisses David. The furniture is real, the curtains are real, the candles are real. But the performance is an illusion.
So you were wrong, whispers Mrs Hume,
Ahem, says Michael Faraday.
Mrs Hume subsides.
Michael Faraday introduces several different types of candles, including the beautiful and delightfully scented beeswax candle. He explains how the wick works, and demonstrates capillary action in a piece of chalk, He talks about the hottest part of the flame, and demonstrates the pattern of scorch marks on a piece of paper, which he passes around the room.
The audience is entranced. Some of them have not previously understood the interesting and scientific nature of a candle. Others have understood these things, but are nonetheless impressed by Mr Faraday's clear and engaging style of lecturing.
He receives an enthusiastic round of applause.
After the lecture, Mrs Hume goes up to speak to him.
That was a wonderful lecture, Mr Faraday, says Mrs Hume. Or may I call you Ziggi?
You may, says Michael Faraday, although it has never been my name.
Your nickname, though? says Mrs Hume.
No, says Michael Faraday. Mike is generally .....
Then I have been misled by those two scallywags! says Mrs Hume. David! Mr Darwin! come over here!
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Whispers
So here we have Charles Darwin, David Hume and his mother Mrs Hume, sitting in the second row of the audience in the boardroom of the Royal Institution of Australia, waiting for Michael Faraday to begin his lecture on candles.
What a charming room, whispers Mrs Hume. The wooden panelling and the brocade curtains and that circular corner nook, and all those proper sideboards. It looks so realistic.
Hush, Mother, whispers David. This used to be the boardroom of the Stock Exchange. It looks realistic because it's real.
David, says Mrs Hume. Don't start being philosophical.
He's not being philosophical, Mrs Hume, whispers Darwin. It really is the real thing. In other words, this room is real.
You don't know him, whispers Mrs Hume. He's always going on about it.
About what, Mother? whispers David loudly.
About whether we can trust our senses, whispers Mrs Hume.
Mother! says David. That's far from the point. I say that we must trust our senses, since they are all we have. But in this case we know ......
No, no, whispers Mrs Hume. That isn't what you say.
I think I ought to know, says David.
A mother knows, says Mrs Hume. And what I know is.....
End point, whispers Darwin.
The lights dim.
Michael Faraday enters through a side door, and takes the stage.
What a charming room, whispers Mrs Hume. The wooden panelling and the brocade curtains and that circular corner nook, and all those proper sideboards. It looks so realistic.
Hush, Mother, whispers David. This used to be the boardroom of the Stock Exchange. It looks realistic because it's real.
David, says Mrs Hume. Don't start being philosophical.
He's not being philosophical, Mrs Hume, whispers Darwin. It really is the real thing. In other words, this room is real.
You don't know him, whispers Mrs Hume. He's always going on about it.
About what, Mother? whispers David loudly.
About whether we can trust our senses, whispers Mrs Hume.
Mother! says David. That's far from the point. I say that we must trust our senses, since they are all we have. But in this case we know ......
No, no, whispers Mrs Hume. That isn't what you say.
I think I ought to know, says David.
A mother knows, says Mrs Hume. And what I know is.....
End point, whispers Darwin.
The lights dim.
Michael Faraday enters through a side door, and takes the stage.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Ziggi's Candle
Mrs Hume has gone off to the toilet.
Lovely woman, your mother, says Darwin. Nice to see a woman interested in science.
I suppose so, says David. Yes, you're right. No doubt she will enjoy Faraday's Candle.
You don't seem all that keen yourself, observes Darwin.
It isn't that, says David. I was hoping to get Mother home early and then go to the House of Africa. I hear there is some lively dancing there, most nights, by uninhibited ladies.
You know, says Darwin, I've heard the same thing. And I do like a spot of African dancing.What say you and I go there tomorrow night? Ziggi will be playing.
Why not? says David, brightening up. Mother! Here you are.
What's this about Ziggi? says Mrs Hume.
Nothing, Mrs Hume, says Darwin. It's just a nickname.
Your nickname, Mr Darwin? asks Mrs Hume.
No, errr.... Michael Faraday's nickname, says Darwin, inventing something quickly.
David suppresses a giggle with a cough.
David! says Mrs Hume. I hope you're not catching a cold. It's chilly out.
No, Mother, I'm perfectly fine, says David. Now let's be off, or we'll be late for Ziggi's Candle.
Lovely woman, your mother, says Darwin. Nice to see a woman interested in science.
I suppose so, says David. Yes, you're right. No doubt she will enjoy Faraday's Candle.
You don't seem all that keen yourself, observes Darwin.
It isn't that, says David. I was hoping to get Mother home early and then go to the House of Africa. I hear there is some lively dancing there, most nights, by uninhibited ladies.
You know, says Darwin, I've heard the same thing. And I do like a spot of African dancing.What say you and I go there tomorrow night? Ziggi will be playing.
Why not? says David, brightening up. Mother! Here you are.
What's this about Ziggi? says Mrs Hume.
Nothing, Mrs Hume, says Darwin. It's just a nickname.
Your nickname, Mr Darwin? asks Mrs Hume.
No, errr.... Michael Faraday's nickname, says Darwin, inventing something quickly.
David suppresses a giggle with a cough.
David! says Mrs Hume. I hope you're not catching a cold. It's chilly out.
No, Mother, I'm perfectly fine, says David. Now let's be off, or we'll be late for Ziggi's Candle.
He Wants To Go
I suppose we should be going, Mother, says David. No doubt you'll be wanting to get home to your bed.
Nothing of the kind, David! says Mrs Hume. I've made the effort to get my glad rags on and I mean to make a night of it.
Well said, Mrs Hume! says Darwin. And I must say you do look very nice. Would you welcome a suggestion?
No, we wouldn't, says David. Thank you all the same.
Yes we would, says Mrs Hume. Please forgive my David, Mr Darwin. He can be very rude.
Think nothing of it, says Darwin, gallantly. I am often rude myself.
Oh, I can't believe that, says Mrs Hume. You have such a lovely way about you. You had the audience eating out of your hand just now, pretending to be birds and fish, and doing South American dances.
A little talent of mine, smiles Darwin.
Well now, Mother, let's be off, says David. We'll miss our bus.
Oh dear, the bus, says Mrs Hume. I don't think I can face it.
May I offer you a lift? says Darwin. As well as my suggestion.
A lift would be most apropos, says Mrs Hume.
David grimaces. Why must she say things like that?
And what is your suggestion, Mr Darwin? asks Mrs Hume.
If you would care to accompany me to the Royal Institution, I believe we'll be just in time to see a performance of Faraday's Candle, says Darwin. The invitation extends to both of you, of course.
Oh lovely! says Mrs Hume. Come on, David. You know you want to go.
Yes Mother, says David. I know I want to go.
Nothing of the kind, David! says Mrs Hume. I've made the effort to get my glad rags on and I mean to make a night of it.
Well said, Mrs Hume! says Darwin. And I must say you do look very nice. Would you welcome a suggestion?
No, we wouldn't, says David. Thank you all the same.
Yes we would, says Mrs Hume. Please forgive my David, Mr Darwin. He can be very rude.
Think nothing of it, says Darwin, gallantly. I am often rude myself.
Oh, I can't believe that, says Mrs Hume. You have such a lovely way about you. You had the audience eating out of your hand just now, pretending to be birds and fish, and doing South American dances.
A little talent of mine, smiles Darwin.
Well now, Mother, let's be off, says David. We'll miss our bus.
Oh dear, the bus, says Mrs Hume. I don't think I can face it.
May I offer you a lift? says Darwin. As well as my suggestion.
A lift would be most apropos, says Mrs Hume.
David grimaces. Why must she say things like that?
And what is your suggestion, Mr Darwin? asks Mrs Hume.
If you would care to accompany me to the Royal Institution, I believe we'll be just in time to see a performance of Faraday's Candle, says Darwin. The invitation extends to both of you, of course.
Oh lovely! says Mrs Hume. Come on, David. You know you want to go.
Yes Mother, says David. I know I want to go.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
The Trouble With Scientists
After the show, David and his mother meet Charles Darwin in the bar.
How did you enjoy the show, Mrs Hume? asks Darwin.
Oh immensely, Mr Darwin, says Mrs Hume. I did not know that you could sing. Nor did I expect you to be funny.
One must adapt to modern times, says Darwin. These days to get one's message across one must be snappy.
Surely you're not still trying to get your message across? says David. Everyone these days knows about the origin of species by means of natural selection.
You are a man of science, says Darwin. You know how we scientists are viewed these days.
I do indeed, sighs David. Because we admit that nothing can be known for certain, we are taken to mean that we do not know anything. At least no more than any other fool.
Alas, says Darwin. How are we to progress, other than by means of comedy?
How indeed? says David sympathetically.
I did like your reenactment of your argument with Captain Fitzroy of the Beagle, Mr Darwin, says Mrs Hume, in an attempt to lighten the mood. The argument about the truth of the bible in the light of fossil evidence. Do pray perform it for us again.
No I couldn't, says Darwin modestly. Not here in the bar.
Oh go on, says Mrs Hume. It was hilarious.
Alright then, says Darwin. Just for you madam. Here I go:
It is....it isn't ....it is....it isn't....it is....it isn't....it IS...... no it ISN'T....yes it IS... no, it isn't....yes it is...no it isn't...... no it isn't .....it IS.... oops I seem to be using the wrong voice!...... no it isn't..... yes it is......
Ha ha ha! laughs Mrs Hume. I love that bit!
How did you enjoy the show, Mrs Hume? asks Darwin.
Oh immensely, Mr Darwin, says Mrs Hume. I did not know that you could sing. Nor did I expect you to be funny.
One must adapt to modern times, says Darwin. These days to get one's message across one must be snappy.
Surely you're not still trying to get your message across? says David. Everyone these days knows about the origin of species by means of natural selection.
You are a man of science, says Darwin. You know how we scientists are viewed these days.
I do indeed, sighs David. Because we admit that nothing can be known for certain, we are taken to mean that we do not know anything. At least no more than any other fool.
Alas, says Darwin. How are we to progress, other than by means of comedy?
How indeed? says David sympathetically.
I did like your reenactment of your argument with Captain Fitzroy of the Beagle, Mr Darwin, says Mrs Hume, in an attempt to lighten the mood. The argument about the truth of the bible in the light of fossil evidence. Do pray perform it for us again.
No I couldn't, says Darwin modestly. Not here in the bar.
Oh go on, says Mrs Hume. It was hilarious.
Alright then, says Darwin. Just for you madam. Here I go:
It is....it isn't ....it is....it isn't....it is....it isn't....it IS...... no it ISN'T....yes it IS... no, it isn't....yes it is...no it isn't...... no it isn't .....it IS.... oops I seem to be using the wrong voice!...... no it isn't..... yes it is......
Ha ha ha! laughs Mrs Hume. I love that bit!
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
A Naturalist Not a Warbler
David and his mother arrive at the theatre on time. They go inside and sit down in the second row. Mr Charles Darwin is already on stage sitting at his desk, chatting with members of the audience.
Oh hello! says Charles Darwin. Nice to see you.
Do we know Mr Darwin, David? asks Mrs Hume.
No, says David, sitting down. Not personally.
Hello, Mr Darwin, says Mrs Hume loudly. I'm sure you know my son, David Hume the famous philosopher.
Goodness me! says Charles Darwin. What an honour. David Hume! A famous philosopher indeed. And do I have the honour of addressing Mrs Hume?
In a manner of speaking, yes, says David. She is my mother.
Well, well, says Charles Darwin. Pleased to meet you both. I hope you will enjoy my humble show.
As long as it is not too far above our heads, says Mrs Hume. We are not scientific.
Mother! says David. I am scientific!
Do not fear, Mrs Hume, says Charles Darwin. It is in the form of a comedy, with many rollicking songs that I've written myself.
Songs! says Mrs Hume. I thought you were a naturalist, Mr Darwin. Not a warbler.
You will see, Mrs Hume, says Mr Darwin. Do please make yourself comfortable.
Thank you, Mr Darwin, says Mrs Hume. After that awful ride on a bumpy bus, a stationary seat will be most welcome.
The performance begins.
Mr Darwin tells the story of his early education and his interest in barnacles. He sings a Barnacle Song, accompanying himself on a guitar, while leaping about the stage with some agility.
David steals a look at his mother. She appears to be captivated.
Good.
Oh hello! says Charles Darwin. Nice to see you.
Do we know Mr Darwin, David? asks Mrs Hume.
No, says David, sitting down. Not personally.
Hello, Mr Darwin, says Mrs Hume loudly. I'm sure you know my son, David Hume the famous philosopher.
Goodness me! says Charles Darwin. What an honour. David Hume! A famous philosopher indeed. And do I have the honour of addressing Mrs Hume?
In a manner of speaking, yes, says David. She is my mother.
Well, well, says Charles Darwin. Pleased to meet you both. I hope you will enjoy my humble show.
As long as it is not too far above our heads, says Mrs Hume. We are not scientific.
Mother! says David. I am scientific!
Do not fear, Mrs Hume, says Charles Darwin. It is in the form of a comedy, with many rollicking songs that I've written myself.
Songs! says Mrs Hume. I thought you were a naturalist, Mr Darwin. Not a warbler.
You will see, Mrs Hume, says Mr Darwin. Do please make yourself comfortable.
Thank you, Mr Darwin, says Mrs Hume. After that awful ride on a bumpy bus, a stationary seat will be most welcome.
The performance begins.
Mr Darwin tells the story of his early education and his interest in barnacles. He sings a Barnacle Song, accompanying himself on a guitar, while leaping about the stage with some agility.
David steals a look at his mother. She appears to be captivated.
Good.
So Bumpy
That evening Le Bon David arrives up to pick up his mother. She is waiting at the door, dressed in black leggings and a long silvery top with black fringes.
Mother! says David. You look....quite remarkable.
I thought I would dress for the occasion, says Mrs Hume. Where are we going? Have you called a taxi?
No, says David, I thought we'd just hop on a bus. It isn't too far into town.
A bus! says Mrs Hume. Oh alright. I suppose it will be amusing. But I shall feel conspicuous, dressed up like this.
Don't worry, says David. No one will mind.
They walked to the bus stop, to wait for the bus.
What are we going to see? asks Mrs Hume. Nothing too low brow I hope.
The Origin of Species By Means of Natural Selection, says David, impressively.
Oh, says Mrs Hume. By that fellow Darwin, I suppose?
Oh, you know about him, do you? says David,.
I like to keep up with the latest in science, says Mrs Hume. Oh, here comes the bus. Help me on.
David helps his mother onto the bus. The driver gives them green tickets. They start to walk to the back of the bus.
Oi! says the driver. Put those tickets through the machine!
What did he say? asks Mrs Hume.
We have to validate our tickets, says David. Like this! He pokes his ticket into the bright yellow machine. Beep! goes the machine. A red cross shows on the tiny screen.
Wrong way! says the driver. Turn it round!
Well really! says Mrs Hume. I have read all about this in the newspaper. These new machines that don't work. They need to get them fixed. It's not good enough.......
Sit down mother, says David. It's alright. The machines are just new. They.....
The bus moves off at a lick.
Oh ! Oh! cries Mrs Hume. It's so bumpy!
Mother! says David. You look....quite remarkable.
I thought I would dress for the occasion, says Mrs Hume. Where are we going? Have you called a taxi?
No, says David, I thought we'd just hop on a bus. It isn't too far into town.
A bus! says Mrs Hume. Oh alright. I suppose it will be amusing. But I shall feel conspicuous, dressed up like this.
Don't worry, says David. No one will mind.
They walked to the bus stop, to wait for the bus.
What are we going to see? asks Mrs Hume. Nothing too low brow I hope.
The Origin of Species By Means of Natural Selection, says David, impressively.
Oh, says Mrs Hume. By that fellow Darwin, I suppose?
Oh, you know about him, do you? says David,.
I like to keep up with the latest in science, says Mrs Hume. Oh, here comes the bus. Help me on.
David helps his mother onto the bus. The driver gives them green tickets. They start to walk to the back of the bus.
Oi! says the driver. Put those tickets through the machine!
What did he say? asks Mrs Hume.
We have to validate our tickets, says David. Like this! He pokes his ticket into the bright yellow machine. Beep! goes the machine. A red cross shows on the tiny screen.
Wrong way! says the driver. Turn it round!
Well really! says Mrs Hume. I have read all about this in the newspaper. These new machines that don't work. They need to get them fixed. It's not good enough.......
Sit down mother, says David. It's alright. The machines are just new. They.....
The bus moves off at a lick.
Oh ! Oh! cries Mrs Hume. It's so bumpy!
Monday, March 12, 2012
A Philosopher's Breakfast
But who cares whether Violetta and Paco are trapped for the night in the cellar of the Tuxedo Cat? David's gone home to his mother!
Le Bon David does not live with his mother. Mrs Hume lives alone. But David has a key and sometimes he sleeps on her couch after a particularly late night on the town.
Next morning Mrs Hume emerges from her bedroom and is surprised to see David in the lounge.
David! she cries. When did you come in?
Oooooh! Eeeeehrrrr! says David, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Mother, I've been at the Fringe.
The Fringe! says Mrs Hume, disapprovingly. What does the Fringe have to offer a philosopher? Particularly one of your age.
I was supposed to be writing a review, says David. I had a free ticket. But one thing led to another.....
Well, says Mrs Hume. I suppose you want breakfast?
No! says David. Wait. Yes. What have you got?
You know me, says Mrs Hume. I always have muesli.
I thought you stopped having muesli, says David. Because it sticks in your teeth.
It does, says Mrs Hume. It sticks in my teeth. I shall have to stop eating it. What do you usually eat?
Weetbix, says David. It's softer. In fact, it's quite mushy, when it's sat in the milk for a while.
Really? says Mrs Hume. I must try it.
Mother, says David We've had this conversation before.
I don't think so, says Mrs Hume. Now tell me all about this ridiculous Fringe.
Better than that, says David. I'll take you out to something tonight. You'll see what it has to offer a philosopher.
Oh David! says Mrs Hume. How very exciting! What shall I wear?
Whatever you like, says David.
Le Bon David does not live with his mother. Mrs Hume lives alone. But David has a key and sometimes he sleeps on her couch after a particularly late night on the town.
Next morning Mrs Hume emerges from her bedroom and is surprised to see David in the lounge.
David! she cries. When did you come in?
Oooooh! Eeeeehrrrr! says David, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Mother, I've been at the Fringe.
The Fringe! says Mrs Hume, disapprovingly. What does the Fringe have to offer a philosopher? Particularly one of your age.
I was supposed to be writing a review, says David. I had a free ticket. But one thing led to another.....
Well, says Mrs Hume. I suppose you want breakfast?
No! says David. Wait. Yes. What have you got?
You know me, says Mrs Hume. I always have muesli.
I thought you stopped having muesli, says David. Because it sticks in your teeth.
It does, says Mrs Hume. It sticks in my teeth. I shall have to stop eating it. What do you usually eat?
Weetbix, says David. It's softer. In fact, it's quite mushy, when it's sat in the milk for a while.
Really? says Mrs Hume. I must try it.
Mother, says David We've had this conversation before.
I don't think so, says Mrs Hume. Now tell me all about this ridiculous Fringe.
Better than that, says David. I'll take you out to something tonight. You'll see what it has to offer a philosopher.
Oh David! says Mrs Hume. How very exciting! What shall I wear?
Whatever you like, says David.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Out of Bounds
At last Eric has finished his Tales of the Sea. As each person files out, Eric hands them a badge.
Ten minutes pass, while Eric packs up his stuff. Now, the audience for Juliet Meyers is let in to sit down.
Gaius, David and Margaret sit in the second row.
Juliet bounces on to the stage.
Hi! she says. I'm Juliet Meyers. I'm from London. Isn't it hot? I put this top on in a hurry. It doesn't fit me properly any more. Let me know if it gapes.
Gaius and David think this is rather engaging. Margaret does not.
Juliet goes on:
I like to know something about my audience. Put your hand up if you're part of a couple.
Magaret puts her hand up. Gaius and David do not.
Juliet looks at Margaret..
So, did you come on your own? asks Juliet.
No, says Margaret.
So, who's with you? says Juliet. No, let me guess. She points at David.
Margaret is pointing at Gaius. Gaius is pointing at David.
Woo hoo! says Juliet. Anyone else in this couple?
Margaret turns red. The rest of the audience laughs.
Juliet goes on: Has anyone been made redundant?
Gaius and David exchange looks. Is she referring to them?
But no, Juliet has moved on, and now she is talking about work.
.........
The show is over, and so is the night. Everyone goes home. Juliet to her hotel, Margaret to her house, Gaius to his, David to his mother's. Violetta and Paco to ..... mm, actually... they are still in the cellar of the Tuxedo Cat, assessing the walls at the crumbling out-of-bounds end. They may well get locked in.
Ten minutes pass, while Eric packs up his stuff. Now, the audience for Juliet Meyers is let in to sit down.
Gaius, David and Margaret sit in the second row.
Juliet bounces on to the stage.
Hi! she says. I'm Juliet Meyers. I'm from London. Isn't it hot? I put this top on in a hurry. It doesn't fit me properly any more. Let me know if it gapes.
Gaius and David think this is rather engaging. Margaret does not.
Juliet goes on:
I like to know something about my audience. Put your hand up if you're part of a couple.
Magaret puts her hand up. Gaius and David do not.
Juliet looks at Margaret..
So, did you come on your own? asks Juliet.
No, says Margaret.
So, who's with you? says Juliet. No, let me guess. She points at David.
Margaret is pointing at Gaius. Gaius is pointing at David.
Woo hoo! says Juliet. Anyone else in this couple?
Margaret turns red. The rest of the audience laughs.
Juliet goes on: Has anyone been made redundant?
Gaius and David exchange looks. Is she referring to them?
But no, Juliet has moved on, and now she is talking about work.
.........
The show is over, and so is the night. Everyone goes home. Juliet to her hotel, Margaret to her house, Gaius to his, David to his mother's. Violetta and Paco to ..... mm, actually... they are still in the cellar of the Tuxedo Cat, assessing the walls at the crumbling out-of-bounds end. They may well get locked in.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Evening Goes On For Ever
Shall we leave them down there? I feel like leaving them down there. This evening has gone on for ever. But no........
So, Paco, Margaret, Violetta, Gaius and David are downstairs in the vast dusty-cementy-rubbly cellar of the Tuxedo Cat, seeing why Violetta thinks it is so awesome, and why the police think it ought to be closed down.
Gaius and David rejoin the queue for Juliet Meyers. Inside the darkened theatre, a small room off to one side inexplicably called The Blue Room, Eric is regaling his audience with his Tales of the Sea.
Gaius sticks his head in, and groans.
Shhh! hiss some of Eric's audience who are sitting on chairs at the back.
Jupiter's jumper! says Gaius. He's nowhere near finished.
How do you know? says David.
I saw it last year, says Gauis. He's not even up to the bit where we find out ...
Shhh! hiss the entire audience of Eric.
Sir! says the usherette.
Usherette?
Whatever.
Sir! says she.
What? says Gaius.
Do please have some consideration....
Sorry, says Gaius, but we have been waiting for a good half hour, and there's nowhere to sit and it smells.....
How much did you pay for your tickets? whispers Margaret.
Five dollars, says Gaius.
Five dollars, says Margaret. I might come in myself. Paco.....?
But Paco had disappeared. And so had Violetta.
So, Paco, Margaret, Violetta, Gaius and David are downstairs in the vast dusty-cementy-rubbly cellar of the Tuxedo Cat, seeing why Violetta thinks it is so awesome, and why the police think it ought to be closed down.
Gaius and David rejoin the queue for Juliet Meyers. Inside the darkened theatre, a small room off to one side inexplicably called The Blue Room, Eric is regaling his audience with his Tales of the Sea.
Gaius sticks his head in, and groans.
Shhh! hiss some of Eric's audience who are sitting on chairs at the back.
Jupiter's jumper! says Gaius. He's nowhere near finished.
How do you know? says David.
I saw it last year, says Gauis. He's not even up to the bit where we find out ...
Shhh! hiss the entire audience of Eric.
Sir! says the usherette.
Usherette?
Whatever.
Sir! says she.
What? says Gaius.
Do please have some consideration....
Sorry, says Gaius, but we have been waiting for a good half hour, and there's nowhere to sit and it smells.....
How much did you pay for your tickets? whispers Margaret.
Five dollars, says Gaius.
Five dollars, says Margaret. I might come in myself. Paco.....?
But Paco had disappeared. And so had Violetta.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Inefficient
Margaret! said David. What are you doing here?
Paco! said Violetta.
You know me? said Paco.
I've just graffitied your poster, said Violetta. I must say you don't look like your picture.
Not now, I suppose, said Paco. Thanks for nothing.
Don't mention it, said Violetta. Now Margaret, what's this about the police being outside?
Nothing, said Margaret. Only that the police ARE outside. Where were you going in such a hurry?
We were just coming up to the bar to get a drink, explained David. We've been downstairs. Gaius and I have tickets for Juliet Meyers. But nothing's happening on time. Eric's still doing his Tales of the Sea.
Most inefficient, said Gaius.
And what was SHE doing? asked Margaret, indicating Violetta.
Doing my thing, said Violetta, patting her pockets. It's amazing down there. All dirt, wood and cement. And cavernous spaces and dark rooms opening off. And a smell of sawdust and damp. Come down and see.
Okay, said Paco. I'm in.
Paco! said Violetta.
You know me? said Paco.
I've just graffitied your poster, said Violetta. I must say you don't look like your picture.
Not now, I suppose, said Paco. Thanks for nothing.
Don't mention it, said Violetta. Now Margaret, what's this about the police being outside?
Nothing, said Margaret. Only that the police ARE outside. Where were you going in such a hurry?
We were just coming up to the bar to get a drink, explained David. We've been downstairs. Gaius and I have tickets for Juliet Meyers. But nothing's happening on time. Eric's still doing his Tales of the Sea.
Most inefficient, said Gaius.
And what was SHE doing? asked Margaret, indicating Violetta.
Doing my thing, said Violetta, patting her pockets. It's amazing down there. All dirt, wood and cement. And cavernous spaces and dark rooms opening off. And a smell of sawdust and damp. Come down and see.
Okay, said Paco. I'm in.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Kerfuffle
Crikey! The police! said Margaret.
What's that to you, Margaret? said Paco.
Just that my friends might be wanted by them, said Margaret cagily.
Sheesh! Why? asked Paco.
When I left them an hour ago they were about to go on a graffiti rampage, said Margaret.
Cool, said Paco. I love graffiti. It's big where I come from.
Tch! said Margaret. You awful Germans!
I come from London, remember, said Paco. Have you ever heard of Banksy?
Of course I've heard of Banksy, said Margaret. I bought a birthday card once with a Banksy on it. It was a rat one.
No kidding? said Paco. That Banksy is getting a bit too commercial. But tell me about your friends.
Margaret was just about to when a policeman made an announcement:
Clear the premises please, ladies and gentlemen. This venue is shut down.
Boo! Why! came a chorus from the patrons.
Unsafe, said the policeman. It's falling down. And downstairs, it's dangerous.
What sort of policemen are you? asked a woman.
We're from the liquor licensing enforcement division, said the policeman.
Well stop harassing us, said the woman. We've got a liquor licence and we've been approved by SafeWork SA.
The policemen looked annoyed, but turned to leave. Only doing our duty. We'll be back, they said.
Phttt! said the woman.
Boo! said the patrons, again.
The police disappeared.
Suddenly there was a huge kerfuffle at the back of the Tuxedo Cat.
Violetta, David and Gaius burst out from behind a screen and made a beeline for the entrance.
Stop! shouted Margaret. The police are outside!
.
What's that to you, Margaret? said Paco.
Just that my friends might be wanted by them, said Margaret cagily.
Sheesh! Why? asked Paco.
When I left them an hour ago they were about to go on a graffiti rampage, said Margaret.
Cool, said Paco. I love graffiti. It's big where I come from.
Tch! said Margaret. You awful Germans!
I come from London, remember, said Paco. Have you ever heard of Banksy?
Of course I've heard of Banksy, said Margaret. I bought a birthday card once with a Banksy on it. It was a rat one.
No kidding? said Paco. That Banksy is getting a bit too commercial. But tell me about your friends.
Margaret was just about to when a policeman made an announcement:
Clear the premises please, ladies and gentlemen. This venue is shut down.
Boo! Why! came a chorus from the patrons.
Unsafe, said the policeman. It's falling down. And downstairs, it's dangerous.
What sort of policemen are you? asked a woman.
We're from the liquor licensing enforcement division, said the policeman.
Well stop harassing us, said the woman. We've got a liquor licence and we've been approved by SafeWork SA.
The policemen looked annoyed, but turned to leave. Only doing our duty. We'll be back, they said.
Phttt! said the woman.
Boo! said the patrons, again.
The police disappeared.
Suddenly there was a huge kerfuffle at the back of the Tuxedo Cat.
Violetta, David and Gaius burst out from behind a screen and made a beeline for the entrance.
Stop! shouted Margaret. The police are outside!
.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Tuxedo Cat
Margaret waited. She didn't have much choice. When the show was over and everyone filed out, Paco was standing at the exit.
Great show, said the man in front of Margaret. I laughed my head off at you Germans.
Thanks, said Paco. Oh, hello Margaret. I want a word with you.
Paco! said Margaret. Did I wreck your show?
You wrecked it, said Paco. And you didn't get it, either.
Of course I got it, said Margaret. And you were naughty, making everyone laugh at stereotypes you'd just been telling them were wrong.
That was the point, Margaret. When they get home they'll realise it, said Paco earnestly. You English are so thick.
Ooh! said Margaret, stung. There you go again, and furthermore I am not English.
I bet your mother was, said Paco.
Yes she was, said Margaret. How did you know?
A lucky guess, said Paco. But Margaret, let's bury the hatchet. I'm finished for the night. And I don't know anyone in Adelaide.Would you like to come out for a drink?
Margaret was not one to say no to an invitation. They soon found themselves sitting at a dark and splintery table in a crowded venue on North Terrace called the Tuxedo Cat. Paco ordered two drinks from the caravan that doubled as a bar.
Edgy, said Paco, this Tuxedo Cat.
Dangerous, said Margaret, but it has a certain buzz.
Just then the police arrived.
Great show, said the man in front of Margaret. I laughed my head off at you Germans.
Thanks, said Paco. Oh, hello Margaret. I want a word with you.
Paco! said Margaret. Did I wreck your show?
You wrecked it, said Paco. And you didn't get it, either.
Of course I got it, said Margaret. And you were naughty, making everyone laugh at stereotypes you'd just been telling them were wrong.
That was the point, Margaret. When they get home they'll realise it, said Paco earnestly. You English are so thick.
Ooh! said Margaret, stung. There you go again, and furthermore I am not English.
I bet your mother was, said Paco.
Yes she was, said Margaret. How did you know?
A lucky guess, said Paco. But Margaret, let's bury the hatchet. I'm finished for the night. And I don't know anyone in Adelaide.Would you like to come out for a drink?
Margaret was not one to say no to an invitation. They soon found themselves sitting at a dark and splintery table in a crowded venue on North Terrace called the Tuxedo Cat. Paco ordered two drinks from the caravan that doubled as a bar.
Edgy, said Paco, this Tuxedo Cat.
Dangerous, said Margaret, but it has a certain buzz.
Just then the police arrived.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Dangerous Stereotypes
It was pretty easy, pretending to be English. When Paco asked if anyone in the audience was English, Margaret put up her hand.
There's always someone, said Paco, sardonically.
Not tonight there isn't, thought Margaret, smiling in a way that said, at least I am not German.
Paco forgot about her, after that, and set about insulting Australians instead.
Always boasting about your dangerous saltwater crocodiles, he said.
Margaret wondered who he had been talking to.
It turned out there was no five step guide to being German. There was just a series of stereotypes to set up and knock down.
There is no stereotypical German, Paco said. However, Germans, when they are driving on the motorway, will risk death itself to avoid crossing over a line.
The audience roared with laughter at the stereotypical Germans who did that.
Paco! said Margaret loudly. You are being contradictory.
English lady! said Paco. You are not supposed to speak. Please see me at the end of the show.
Margaret wondered whether she should wait.
There's always someone, said Paco, sardonically.
Not tonight there isn't, thought Margaret, smiling in a way that said, at least I am not German.
Paco forgot about her, after that, and set about insulting Australians instead.
Always boasting about your dangerous saltwater crocodiles, he said.
Margaret wondered who he had been talking to.
It turned out there was no five step guide to being German. There was just a series of stereotypes to set up and knock down.
There is no stereotypical German, Paco said. However, Germans, when they are driving on the motorway, will risk death itself to avoid crossing over a line.
The audience roared with laughter at the stereotypical Germans who did that.
Paco! said Margaret loudly. You are being contradictory.
English lady! said Paco. You are not supposed to speak. Please see me at the end of the show.
Margaret wondered whether she should wait.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Being English
Margaret was sitting at a table outside the Austral Hotel, having a drink on her own.
A young man in a bright green t-shirt came out of the hotel in a hurry and began looking around.
He came up to Margaret.
Are you English? he asked.
No, said Margaret.
Damn! said the young man. I don't believe it! There's always somebody English.
I'm sure there is, said Margaret.
There isn't! said the young man. And my show starts in five minutes! I don't suppose you would do me a favour and pretend to be English? I'll give you a free ticket to my show.
What's your show? asked Margaret, feeling just a little excited.
The Five Step Guide to Being German, said the young man. In the Bunka. My name is Paco Erhard.
You don't sound German, said Margaret doubtfully.
I live in London, said Paco.
Oh, said Margaret. Alright Paco. I'll do it. My name is Margaret.
Brilliant, said Paco. A lovely English name. Come inside Margaret. Here's your ticket. Sit near the back and I'll pick you out. Whatever I say to you don't be offended. Don't forget you're supposed to be English.
Margaret went inside. She sat near the back. It was hot in the Bunka. The black curtains billowed in the breeze from the fans. Through a high window a red neon sign spelled out CROWN. Most of the seats were filled. People were chattering. She tried to channel her mother, who was English.
A young man in a bright green t-shirt came out of the hotel in a hurry and began looking around.
He came up to Margaret.
Are you English? he asked.
No, said Margaret.
Damn! said the young man. I don't believe it! There's always somebody English.
I'm sure there is, said Margaret.
There isn't! said the young man. And my show starts in five minutes! I don't suppose you would do me a favour and pretend to be English? I'll give you a free ticket to my show.
What's your show? asked Margaret, feeling just a little excited.
The Five Step Guide to Being German, said the young man. In the Bunka. My name is Paco Erhard.
You don't sound German, said Margaret doubtfully.
I live in London, said Paco.
Oh, said Margaret. Alright Paco. I'll do it. My name is Margaret.
Brilliant, said Paco. A lovely English name. Come inside Margaret. Here's your ticket. Sit near the back and I'll pick you out. Whatever I say to you don't be offended. Don't forget you're supposed to be English.
Margaret went inside. She sat near the back. It was hot in the Bunka. The black curtains billowed in the breeze from the fans. Through a high window a red neon sign spelled out CROWN. Most of the seats were filled. People were chattering. She tried to channel her mother, who was English.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Yiros and Being German
What shall we do now? said Gaius.
How about we get something to eat, said Violetta, then we'll go out on the town.
Good, said David. I'm feeling peckish.
Margaret wondered what Violetta meant by out on the town.
They crossed East Terrace and walked up Grenfell Street. Mmm. Yiros! They stopped at East End Yiros and sat down at a table outside.
What do you mean by out on the town, Violetta? asked Margaret.
You'll see, said Violetta.
Gaius had a feeling he knew.
They finished their yiros and left. Violetta led them to a narrow back alley. She whisked two balaclavas out of her bag.
I've only got two, she said. We'll have to take turns. Unless someone wants to be brave.
What the dickens! said Margaret. Am I correct in thinking you are taking us on a graffiti rampage?
Yup! said Violetta. Grab a can!
No! said Margaret. I refuse to take part. And so does Gaius.
Margaret, said Violetta. Lighten up. Graffiti has an artistic purpose and a venerable history. And it's a brilliant mind-blowing buzz, evading the police.
Fiddlesticks! said Margaret. I'm going to the Austral. If any one of you has a social conscience you can join me there.
She stalked off in the direction of Rundle Street.
Good riddance! said Violetta.
David and Gaius watched her disappear.
Ha ha! look at you guys! said Violetta. Don't worry about her, she'll be alright. If she gets there by nine, she can see The Five Step Guide to Being German!
How about we get something to eat, said Violetta, then we'll go out on the town.
Good, said David. I'm feeling peckish.
Margaret wondered what Violetta meant by out on the town.
They crossed East Terrace and walked up Grenfell Street. Mmm. Yiros! They stopped at East End Yiros and sat down at a table outside.
What do you mean by out on the town, Violetta? asked Margaret.
You'll see, said Violetta.
Gaius had a feeling he knew.
They finished their yiros and left. Violetta led them to a narrow back alley. She whisked two balaclavas out of her bag.
I've only got two, she said. We'll have to take turns. Unless someone wants to be brave.
What the dickens! said Margaret. Am I correct in thinking you are taking us on a graffiti rampage?
Yup! said Violetta. Grab a can!
No! said Margaret. I refuse to take part. And so does Gaius.
Margaret, said Violetta. Lighten up. Graffiti has an artistic purpose and a venerable history. And it's a brilliant mind-blowing buzz, evading the police.
Fiddlesticks! said Margaret. I'm going to the Austral. If any one of you has a social conscience you can join me there.
She stalked off in the direction of Rundle Street.
Good riddance! said Violetta.
David and Gaius watched her disappear.
Ha ha! look at you guys! said Violetta. Don't worry about her, she'll be alright. If she gets there by nine, she can see The Five Step Guide to Being German!
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Strength and Fragility
The circus was brilliant. Four young acrobats, doing acrobatical acts. Sometimes with eggs.
The audience was thrilled.
Everyone filed out.
That was amazing! said Margaret.
Super! agreed Violetta.
And the semiotics? asked David. What did you think about them?
What semiotics? asked Margaret. I don't even know what that means.
It's the study of the meanings of signs, said Gaius, helpfully.
Is it indeed? Well if you're such a clever clogs, what were these signs? asked Margaret.
I don't know, admitted Gaius. I was too busy watching the show.
When one of them made paper cranes, said Violetta. Representing peace and good fortune.
I thought they just represented time out to give them a breather, said Margaret.
That is a perfectly valid interpretation of a signifier, said David. Well done, Margaret.
Margaret felt pleased. She cast about for more signifiers. Her thoughts turned to the eggs.
And the eggs! she said. They represent strength and fragility.
That's the SHIT, Margaret, said Violetta approvingly.
Pardon? said Margaret.
It's an expression, said Violetta. Don't you know what it means?
The audience was thrilled.
Everyone filed out.
That was amazing! said Margaret.
Super! agreed Violetta.
And the semiotics? asked David. What did you think about them?
What semiotics? asked Margaret. I don't even know what that means.
It's the study of the meanings of signs, said Gaius, helpfully.
Is it indeed? Well if you're such a clever clogs, what were these signs? asked Margaret.
I don't know, admitted Gaius. I was too busy watching the show.
When one of them made paper cranes, said Violetta. Representing peace and good fortune.
I thought they just represented time out to give them a breather, said Margaret.
That is a perfectly valid interpretation of a signifier, said David. Well done, Margaret.
Margaret felt pleased. She cast about for more signifiers. Her thoughts turned to the eggs.
And the eggs! she said. They represent strength and fragility.
That's the SHIT, Margaret, said Violetta approvingly.
Pardon? said Margaret.
It's an expression, said Violetta. Don't you know what it means?
Friday, March 2, 2012
It's a Circus
Who is she? asked Margaret. Why is she called SPLOSH!?
She's a famous street artist, said Gaius. And a talented rider. She rode with me and Flaubert in last year's Tour de France. We were Team Bumptious. But we didn't do well.
Oh, really! snorted Margaret. Pull the other one, Gaius.
It was largely my fault, said Gaius. But SHE gave me the mints.
What on earth are you talking about? said Margaret.
A mix up, said David. Not everyone believed they were mints.
Margaret looked confused.
Well, she said finally. A street artist, eh? I suppose that means graffiti. I disapprove of graffiti, you know.
Don't tell that to Splosh!, said Gaius. You'll get a lecture.
I certainly shall, said Margaret. I'm no shrinking violet myself. Where has she gone anyway? The box office is just over there. I don't see Violetta.
Probably nicking some tickets, said David. I've never known her to pay for anything.
True, said Gaius. She asked me out, but I'm paying.
What is it? asked David. Knee Deep?
It's a circus, said Gaius. But it also explores semiotics.
I say! said David, impressed.
Yes it is! It's a circus! shouted Violetta, reappearing, waving two extra tickets in her hand.
Fell out of someone's pocket, she grinned. Let's go in!
She's a famous street artist, said Gaius. And a talented rider. She rode with me and Flaubert in last year's Tour de France. We were Team Bumptious. But we didn't do well.
Oh, really! snorted Margaret. Pull the other one, Gaius.
It was largely my fault, said Gaius. But SHE gave me the mints.
What on earth are you talking about? said Margaret.
A mix up, said David. Not everyone believed they were mints.
Margaret looked confused.
Well, she said finally. A street artist, eh? I suppose that means graffiti. I disapprove of graffiti, you know.
Don't tell that to Splosh!, said Gaius. You'll get a lecture.
I certainly shall, said Margaret. I'm no shrinking violet myself. Where has she gone anyway? The box office is just over there. I don't see Violetta.
Probably nicking some tickets, said David. I've never known her to pay for anything.
True, said Gaius. She asked me out, but I'm paying.
What is it? asked David. Knee Deep?
It's a circus, said Gaius. But it also explores semiotics.
I say! said David, impressed.
Yes it is! It's a circus! shouted Violetta, reappearing, waving two extra tickets in her hand.
Fell out of someone's pocket, she grinned. Let's go in!
Thursday, March 1, 2012
And He Came
Margaret leaned forward suddenly.
Kiss me! she said.
Margaret! said David. Get back!
Well at least look adoring, said Margaret. Go on!
What's this about? said David. Have you got a spiked drink?
No, said Margaret. But look over there. No! Don't turn around!
How can I look over there if I don't turn around? asked David.
He turned around.
Good heavens! It's Gaius, with a lady! he cried.
Exactly! said Margaret. The cheat!
Wait, said David. It isn't a lady. It's SPLOSH! Come over. I'll introduce you.
Reluctantly, Margaret got up.
Gaius! said David. And Violetta. What a surprise! What are you doing here?
David, nice to see you, said Violetta. We're here for Knee Deep. It's on next.
Hello Gaius, said Margaret. David and I are here on a date. We've just seen Doc Faustus together. Now we're having a drink.
Gaius felt slightly uncomfortable. Why did Margaret look cross?
Hello Margaret, he said. I was at home reading my bird book when Violetta dropped by, and invited me out.
Super! said Margaret, coldly. And you came.
Of course he came! roared Violetta. No one says no to SPLOSH! Now why don't you two get tickets for Knee Deep, and come in with us. We'll make up a foursome. Afterwards we'll go out on the town. No, don't worry I'll get the tickets. Don't you guys move!
She leapt up and dashed off to the box office.
David and Margaret sat down next to Gaius, under the dimly lit tree.
Kiss me! she said.
Margaret! said David. Get back!
Well at least look adoring, said Margaret. Go on!
What's this about? said David. Have you got a spiked drink?
No, said Margaret. But look over there. No! Don't turn around!
How can I look over there if I don't turn around? asked David.
He turned around.
Good heavens! It's Gaius, with a lady! he cried.
Exactly! said Margaret. The cheat!
Wait, said David. It isn't a lady. It's SPLOSH! Come over. I'll introduce you.
Reluctantly, Margaret got up.
Gaius! said David. And Violetta. What a surprise! What are you doing here?
David, nice to see you, said Violetta. We're here for Knee Deep. It's on next.
Hello Gaius, said Margaret. David and I are here on a date. We've just seen Doc Faustus together. Now we're having a drink.
Gaius felt slightly uncomfortable. Why did Margaret look cross?
Hello Margaret, he said. I was at home reading my bird book when Violetta dropped by, and invited me out.
Super! said Margaret, coldly. And you came.
Of course he came! roared Violetta. No one says no to SPLOSH! Now why don't you two get tickets for Knee Deep, and come in with us. We'll make up a foursome. Afterwards we'll go out on the town. No, don't worry I'll get the tickets. Don't you guys move!
She leapt up and dashed off to the box office.
David and Margaret sat down next to Gaius, under the dimly lit tree.
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