This looks, says Helen, twirling the barnacle between her thumb and forefinger, like an ordinary Surf Barnacle.
It is, says Gaius.
Have you spotted any others? asks Helen.
No, says Gaius, But I have not given up.
A classic case of talking at cross purposes.
Helen believes that the Surf Barnacle may represent a geographically separated population of the same species, that is, Surf Barnacles.
Gaius, on the other hand, knows that this Surf Barnacle has merely been mislaid.
Only Captain Louttit knows that she is pregnant.
He comes to the rescue.
Good morning, madam, says Captain Louttit. Stop twiddling that barnacle.
Captain Louttit! says Helen. What are you doing here?
Oh, it's you, Helen, says Captain Louttit. I am travelling down to Hobart with these people.
You are far from your native coastline, says Helen.
I am indeed, says Captain Louttit. But I have nothing to complain of.
I have! squeaks the educated barnacle, but no one hears her.
Helen can't help herself. She is a Disjunct Naturalist. She drops the educated barnacle into one of her many pockets, when no one is looking.
Melting moment? asks Schopenhauer, showing good German manners.
Thank you, says Helen, taking one and sitting down.
How long are you in Tasmania? asks Helen.
That is the current subject of debate, says Schopenhauer. Gaius here wants to hurry down to Hobart to meet a jellyfish lady.
Jellyfish lady! says Helen. Would that be Lisa-Ann?
It would, says Gaius. Do you know her?
Oh yes, says Helen. Everybody does. She found that giant jellyfish that went viral. Oh, say hello from me.
Of course, says Gaius. We'll be there in a day or two. Arthur, have you made that phone call?
Yes, says Arthur, (although of course he hasn't).
First, says Unni, we're going to take a trip to Cradle Mountain.
I have no wish to go to Cradle Mountain, says Gaius.
Then, are you interested is coming on a Fungi Foray? asks Helen. We are having one on Sunday in Lower Barrington.
Is it on the way to Hobart? asks Gaius.
Not exactly, says Helen.
Tempting though it is, says Gaius, I feel I should focus on my interest in marine life.
Suit yourself, says Helen, getting up.
In another moment she will have walked away with our pregnant educated surf barnacle in her pocket.
Is there any way that this can be prevented?
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Rare And Endangered
A philosopher's imagination! Schopenhauer is delighted.
Why yes, he does have a philosopher's imagination.
He is already imagining morning tea time.
It will be somewhere in the Tamar Valley, in a pretty village, by the Tamar.
They will all sit on the grass, and share the bag of melting moments that he purchased from the bakery......
They ride down the West Tamar Highway until they come to Riverside.
Let's stop for morning tea, says Schopenhauer.
...........
Sitting on the grass beside the lovely Tamar River, Schopenhauer, Gaius, Arthur, Unni, eating melting moments, their bicycles leaning against surrounding graceful trees......
Schopenhauer has positioned his bicycle carelessly, due to dealing with the bag of melting moments.
The Platonic Ideal slowly topples over.
Gaius leaps up to save Captain Louttit and the barnacles.
Too late.
Captain Louttit is on the grass amongst the lycopus australis (endangered), and the calystegio sepium (rare), waving his legs but otherwise intact.
The barnacles have disappeared altogether.
Arthur! calls Gaius. Come and help me find the barnacles!
But before Arthur has even swallowed his melting moment, a shadow falls across the hand of Gaius.
He looks up.
Are you a disjunct? asks the woman of the shadow.
Certainly not, says Gaius. Why do you ask?
The others are around here somewhere, says the woman. I thought you might be one. I'm sure I don't know all of them. We're on a field trip.
So, you are all disjuncts, says Gaius drily. A wonderful name. I am Gaius Plinius Secundus.
Helen Jones, says Helen. I see you have found a patch of that rare plant, calystegio sepium.
To be honest, says Gaius, I am not looking for calystegio sepium. I'm looking for barnacles.
Helen snorts derisively, then recollects herself. A Disjunct Naturalist is prepared to find anything, anywhere.
Arthur appears. He spots the educated barnacle under a blade of grass and picks her up.
My goodness! says Helen Jones. A barnacle of all things! May I take a closer look?
Arthur hands her the educated barnacle.
To Helen, the educated barnacle looks like an ordinary Surf Barnacle, or catomerus polymerus.
And sounds like one, because she has clammed up.
Why yes, he does have a philosopher's imagination.
He is already imagining morning tea time.
It will be somewhere in the Tamar Valley, in a pretty village, by the Tamar.
They will all sit on the grass, and share the bag of melting moments that he purchased from the bakery......
They ride down the West Tamar Highway until they come to Riverside.
Let's stop for morning tea, says Schopenhauer.
...........
Sitting on the grass beside the lovely Tamar River, Schopenhauer, Gaius, Arthur, Unni, eating melting moments, their bicycles leaning against surrounding graceful trees......
Schopenhauer has positioned his bicycle carelessly, due to dealing with the bag of melting moments.
The Platonic Ideal slowly topples over.
Gaius leaps up to save Captain Louttit and the barnacles.
Too late.
Captain Louttit is on the grass amongst the lycopus australis (endangered), and the calystegio sepium (rare), waving his legs but otherwise intact.
The barnacles have disappeared altogether.
Arthur! calls Gaius. Come and help me find the barnacles!
But before Arthur has even swallowed his melting moment, a shadow falls across the hand of Gaius.
He looks up.
Are you a disjunct? asks the woman of the shadow.
Certainly not, says Gaius. Why do you ask?
The others are around here somewhere, says the woman. I thought you might be one. I'm sure I don't know all of them. We're on a field trip.
So, you are all disjuncts, says Gaius drily. A wonderful name. I am Gaius Plinius Secundus.
Helen Jones, says Helen. I see you have found a patch of that rare plant, calystegio sepium.
To be honest, says Gaius, I am not looking for calystegio sepium. I'm looking for barnacles.
Helen snorts derisively, then recollects herself. A Disjunct Naturalist is prepared to find anything, anywhere.
Arthur appears. He spots the educated barnacle under a blade of grass and picks her up.
My goodness! says Helen Jones. A barnacle of all things! May I take a closer look?
Arthur hands her the educated barnacle.
To Helen, the educated barnacle looks like an ordinary Surf Barnacle, or catomerus polymerus.
And sounds like one, because she has clammed up.
Monday, April 28, 2014
A Philosopher's Imagination
Right, says Unni, now we're all together, let's get going.
What about breakfast? says Schopenhauer, looking back towards the Wholefoods and Coffee Shop.
Breakfast is in Exeter, says Unni. It's only forty kilometres away. They're meant to have an excellent bakery.
Schopenhauer looks at Arthur. Surely he must be hungry?
But Arthur is already on his bicycle, for the ride to Exeter.
And Gaius? He seems to be preoccupied with something.
Schopenhauer climbs onto the Platonic Ideal and wobbles after Unni.
Salt water slops out of the jug into his basket.
Careful! says Captain Louttit, awoken rudely from his peaceful slumbers.
Yes careful! shouts the educated barnacle. I'm in the family way.
What! cries Captain Louttit. Quiet, below!
Calm down, says Schopenhauer, now riding sedately. Remember, pleasure is the absence of suffering.
What nonsense, says Captain Louttit. I am neither suffering, nor happy.
I meant my pleasure and my suffering, says Schopenhauer.
Are you suffering, old chap? asks Gaius. I couldn't help overhearing.....
Not at all, says Schopenhauer. I am determined to enjoy myself. Determined!
Have we had our breakfast? asks Gaius. I don't remember having anything.
You don't remember? says Schopenhauer. I knew you were preoccupied with something.
I am, says Gaius. I must get in touch with Lisa-Ann Gershwin. The jellyfish woman. Let her know I'm coming.
Tch-tch! says Schopenhauer. She doesn't know you're coming. What if she isn't there?
She must be there, says Gaius. She's my only contact.
Call her up, says Schopenhauer.
What a good idea, says Gaius. Arthur!
Arthur slows down. So does Unni.
Arthur, call Lisa-Ann Gershwin, says Gaius. Let her know we'll be in Hobart in ......how long, Unni?
Ooh.... says Unni. About a week I reckon.
A week! cries Gaius. How long is Tasmania?
We're going the scenic route, says Unni.
We aren't, says Gaius, looking at the road.
We'll talk about it when we get to Exeter, says Unni, speeding up.
..........
Exeter. The Exeter Bakery. Said to be excellent.
Here they stop for breakfast, and eat famous Curried Scallop Pies, followed by Matchsticks.
And look at maps.
See, says Unni. We go down to Launceston, then we branch off west to visit Cradle Mountain.
Cradle Mountain! croons the educated barnacle, through the thick glass at the bottom of the jug of saline solution. The perfect place for me to raise a family.....
Did you hear that? says Schopenhauer.
What? says Gaius.
The barnacle wants to go to Cradle Mountain, says Schopenhauer. And raise a family.
You have a philosopher's imagination, says Gaius.
What about breakfast? says Schopenhauer, looking back towards the Wholefoods and Coffee Shop.
Breakfast is in Exeter, says Unni. It's only forty kilometres away. They're meant to have an excellent bakery.
Schopenhauer looks at Arthur. Surely he must be hungry?
But Arthur is already on his bicycle, for the ride to Exeter.
And Gaius? He seems to be preoccupied with something.
Schopenhauer climbs onto the Platonic Ideal and wobbles after Unni.
Salt water slops out of the jug into his basket.
Careful! says Captain Louttit, awoken rudely from his peaceful slumbers.
Yes careful! shouts the educated barnacle. I'm in the family way.
What! cries Captain Louttit. Quiet, below!
Calm down, says Schopenhauer, now riding sedately. Remember, pleasure is the absence of suffering.
What nonsense, says Captain Louttit. I am neither suffering, nor happy.
I meant my pleasure and my suffering, says Schopenhauer.
Are you suffering, old chap? asks Gaius. I couldn't help overhearing.....
Not at all, says Schopenhauer. I am determined to enjoy myself. Determined!
Have we had our breakfast? asks Gaius. I don't remember having anything.
You don't remember? says Schopenhauer. I knew you were preoccupied with something.
I am, says Gaius. I must get in touch with Lisa-Ann Gershwin. The jellyfish woman. Let her know I'm coming.
Tch-tch! says Schopenhauer. She doesn't know you're coming. What if she isn't there?
She must be there, says Gaius. She's my only contact.
Call her up, says Schopenhauer.
What a good idea, says Gaius. Arthur!
Arthur slows down. So does Unni.
Arthur, call Lisa-Ann Gershwin, says Gaius. Let her know we'll be in Hobart in ......how long, Unni?
Ooh.... says Unni. About a week I reckon.
A week! cries Gaius. How long is Tasmania?
We're going the scenic route, says Unni.
We aren't, says Gaius, looking at the road.
We'll talk about it when we get to Exeter, says Unni, speeding up.
..........
Exeter. The Exeter Bakery. Said to be excellent.
Here they stop for breakfast, and eat famous Curried Scallop Pies, followed by Matchsticks.
And look at maps.
See, says Unni. We go down to Launceston, then we branch off west to visit Cradle Mountain.
Cradle Mountain! croons the educated barnacle, through the thick glass at the bottom of the jug of saline solution. The perfect place for me to raise a family.....
Did you hear that? says Schopenhauer.
What? says Gaius.
The barnacle wants to go to Cradle Mountain, says Schopenhauer. And raise a family.
You have a philosopher's imagination, says Gaius.
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Direct From Faux-Heaven
It's morning in Beaconsfield. Time to say goodbye to Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
They are just waiting for Arthur, who has disappeared.
Father Martin Aye Ngwe has kindly scraped the barnacles off the font using fingernails. Not his fingernails. Ones normally kept in an ancient worm eaten box.
I am very grateful to you, says Gaius.
Be grateful to Saint Wilhemina, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. And take care of those barnacles. They look exhausted.
Goodbye Martin, says Schopenhauer. I should like to leave you with a copy of my book On Suffering, but I don't have one with me. Perhaps I could post one to you when I get home?
I should like that, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I am big on suffering.
So am I, says Schopenhauer, thinking of his grumbly tummy.
Goodbye Unni, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I am sorry I didn't have the opportunity to speak more with you about your congregation.
That bunch of gullible bumpkins, says Unni. I bet they don't even know I've gone.
Don't be too sure, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Oh, I have faith in them, says Unni. And anyway, I make good use of social media. I send them text messages direct from faux-heaven.
Dear me, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. We really should have talked. That sounds like a wonderful idea.
Feel free, says Unni.
Yes, but I don't have access to the messages, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
No worries, I'll link you in, says Unni.
.........
Arthur has left St Francis Xavier's early, on his bicycle, to look for a Post Office.
He finds one on Weld Road, open Monday to Thursday.
It's Tuesday, so the Post Office should be open, but it isn't, and a delightful smell is issuing from next door.
Arthur enters the Tamar Valley Wholefoods and Coffee Shop, a wonderland of wholefoods, herbal teas, coffees and fruit smoothies, and local home made cakes.
Arthur has money in his pocket. Fifty dollars that Rachelle Hawkins slipped him, in payment for her copy of the sea horse poem.
He also has the postcard, with the original poem on it, to post to Sweezus, if the Post Office ever opens.
He orders a raspberry and apple smoothie, and a lemon tart, and sits down at a table, near the window.
He takes the postcard out of his pocket, and places it on the table in front of him.
A woman sitting at a nearby table drinking coffee, sees it and says, I see you have a postcard! Are you waiting for the Post Office to open? I'll be opening it as soon as I've finished my coffee.
She comes over and sits down at Arthur's table. What a busybody! She starts to read the postcard.
What a lovely poem, she says. Look at this, Lenore! It's about the sex life of the seahorse.
Lenore has just brought the raspberry and apple smoothie and lemon tart to Arthur's table.
The sex life of the sea horse! She takes a squizz.
Magic! says Lenore. Can I have a copy for the cafe? Our customers will go mental when they read about the benefits of sweet prolactin.
It may not be sweet, says Arthur. I made that up.
But not prolactin? says Lenore. Please tell me that part's true?
Direct from Wikipedia, says Arthur.
..........
And so it is that later, when Gaius, Schopenhauer and Unni, cycling down Weld street, see Arthur emerging from the Post Office, they are unaware that he has just had a free breakfast and been issued with one free postage stamp, and still has in his pocket the fifty dollar note, (another thing they didn't know he had).
They are just waiting for Arthur, who has disappeared.
Father Martin Aye Ngwe has kindly scraped the barnacles off the font using fingernails. Not his fingernails. Ones normally kept in an ancient worm eaten box.
I am very grateful to you, says Gaius.
Be grateful to Saint Wilhemina, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. And take care of those barnacles. They look exhausted.
Goodbye Martin, says Schopenhauer. I should like to leave you with a copy of my book On Suffering, but I don't have one with me. Perhaps I could post one to you when I get home?
I should like that, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I am big on suffering.
So am I, says Schopenhauer, thinking of his grumbly tummy.
Goodbye Unni, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I am sorry I didn't have the opportunity to speak more with you about your congregation.
That bunch of gullible bumpkins, says Unni. I bet they don't even know I've gone.
Don't be too sure, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Oh, I have faith in them, says Unni. And anyway, I make good use of social media. I send them text messages direct from faux-heaven.
Dear me, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. We really should have talked. That sounds like a wonderful idea.
Feel free, says Unni.
Yes, but I don't have access to the messages, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
No worries, I'll link you in, says Unni.
.........
Arthur has left St Francis Xavier's early, on his bicycle, to look for a Post Office.
He finds one on Weld Road, open Monday to Thursday.
It's Tuesday, so the Post Office should be open, but it isn't, and a delightful smell is issuing from next door.
Arthur enters the Tamar Valley Wholefoods and Coffee Shop, a wonderland of wholefoods, herbal teas, coffees and fruit smoothies, and local home made cakes.
Arthur has money in his pocket. Fifty dollars that Rachelle Hawkins slipped him, in payment for her copy of the sea horse poem.
He also has the postcard, with the original poem on it, to post to Sweezus, if the Post Office ever opens.
He orders a raspberry and apple smoothie, and a lemon tart, and sits down at a table, near the window.
He takes the postcard out of his pocket, and places it on the table in front of him.
A woman sitting at a nearby table drinking coffee, sees it and says, I see you have a postcard! Are you waiting for the Post Office to open? I'll be opening it as soon as I've finished my coffee.
She comes over and sits down at Arthur's table. What a busybody! She starts to read the postcard.
What a lovely poem, she says. Look at this, Lenore! It's about the sex life of the seahorse.
Lenore has just brought the raspberry and apple smoothie and lemon tart to Arthur's table.
The sex life of the sea horse! She takes a squizz.
Magic! says Lenore. Can I have a copy for the cafe? Our customers will go mental when they read about the benefits of sweet prolactin.
It may not be sweet, says Arthur. I made that up.
But not prolactin? says Lenore. Please tell me that part's true?
Direct from Wikipedia, says Arthur.
..........
And so it is that later, when Gaius, Schopenhauer and Unni, cycling down Weld street, see Arthur emerging from the Post Office, they are unaware that he has just had a free breakfast and been issued with one free postage stamp, and still has in his pocket the fifty dollar note, (another thing they didn't know he had).
Friday, April 25, 2014
Irritation And Desire
It is night time. It is dark inside St Francis Xavier's.
Everyone is trying to get to sleep.
The wooden pews are narrow and uncomfortable.
Unni is playing with her phone. Calling maps up.
Arthur is scratching dried scabs off his knees.
Schopenhauer is thinking of an argument to put to Father Martin Aye Ngwe in the morning. On how one may be a Buddhist but still enjoy a meaty dinner. This leads him to think of dinner. He hasn't eaten. Grrrumrr! His tummy rumbles, keeping him awake.
Gaius is thinking of the barnacles that have been rediscovered in the font. He hadn't even known that they were missing. He hopes they haven't become too attached. Arthur will scrape them off in the morning. There must be plenty of sharp objects in the church.
Captain Louttit is sleeping the sleep of the pampered, in his tailored saline solution, free of barnacles.. ahhhhoo.......brpppprrrr...... mubmubble.......
The barnacles can hear Captain Louttit snoring. Lucky Captain Louttit. It is shitty in the font. Discomfort leads to irritation. Irritation leads to a desire to mate.
Barnacles are hermaphrodites, but it is rare to see one mating with itself. On the other hand it is difficult to mate with another barnacle when you are cemented.
For this reason barnacles have extraordinarily long penises.
You can see now why Rachelle thought Father Martin Aye Ngwe shouldn't leave them in the font.
Everyone is trying to get to sleep.
The wooden pews are narrow and uncomfortable.
Unni is playing with her phone. Calling maps up.
Arthur is scratching dried scabs off his knees.
Schopenhauer is thinking of an argument to put to Father Martin Aye Ngwe in the morning. On how one may be a Buddhist but still enjoy a meaty dinner. This leads him to think of dinner. He hasn't eaten. Grrrumrr! His tummy rumbles, keeping him awake.
Gaius is thinking of the barnacles that have been rediscovered in the font. He hadn't even known that they were missing. He hopes they haven't become too attached. Arthur will scrape them off in the morning. There must be plenty of sharp objects in the church.
Captain Louttit is sleeping the sleep of the pampered, in his tailored saline solution, free of barnacles.. ahhhhoo.......brpppprrrr...... mubmubble.......
The barnacles can hear Captain Louttit snoring. Lucky Captain Louttit. It is shitty in the font. Discomfort leads to irritation. Irritation leads to a desire to mate.
Barnacles are hermaphrodites, but it is rare to see one mating with itself. On the other hand it is difficult to mate with another barnacle when you are cemented.
For this reason barnacles have extraordinarily long penises.
You can see now why Rachelle thought Father Martin Aye Ngwe shouldn't leave them in the font.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Deadline
Unni is walking back towards St Francis Xavier's when she receives a call from Sweezus.
Hi Unni, says Sweezus. It's me, Sweezus.
Hi! says Unni. She starts to giggle.
What's funny? says Sweezus.
Some guys here thought your name was Tweezers, says Unni.
That's not funny, says Sweezus. Where are you?
In Beaconsfield with Arthur, says Unni.
Cool! And Schopenhauer? says Sweezus.
Yeah, Schopenhauer, says Unni. And Gaius and Captain Louttit.
Awesome, says Sweezus. Who's Captain Louttit?
By now Unni has reached the open door of St Francis Xavier, and entered.
Just some old Sea Captain lobster that decided to tag along with us, says Unni, walking down the aisle towards the font.
Rachelle Hawkins overhears this casual dismissal of Captain Louttit, and stops transcribing Arthur's poem.
Captain Louttit is a valued member of the tourism industry, says Rachelle Hawkins. I won't have him spoken of like that.
Pardon? says Unni. This is a private conversation.
What? says Sweezus. I know it's a private conversation.
Sorry Sweezie, says Unni. I wasn't talking to you.
Are you talking to Sweezus? says Arthur.
My, my, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. Is this the famous Sweezus on the phone? Could I have a word?
No, says Unni. I don't like your tone.
Was that Schopenhauer? says Sweezus.
No, it wasn't, says Unni. It was Father Martin Aye Ngwe. But you can talk to Schopenhauer if you like. Just don't take too long. I'm nearly out of battery.
Geez, says Sweezus. Don't you guys have a charger?
Just hurry up, says Unni, handing Schopenhauer the phone.
Who is it? says Schopenhauer.
Me, says Sweezus.
Ah, Sweezus, says Schopenhauer. Did you have a pleasant Easter?
Trashed it, says Sweezus. I got totally wasted. Pleasant's not the word.
We've had an enjoyable time here in St Francis Xavier's, says Schopenhauer. Eating hot ......
Schopenhauer suddenly remembers what Unni said about Sweezus hating hot cross buns.
....and we are currently seeing Captain Louttit being resurrected before our very eyes, continues Schopenhauer smoothly.
Yeah? And how's your new bike going? says Sweezus, changing the subject from resurrection equally smoothly.
Perfect, perfect, says Schopenhauer. Couldn't ask for better. Now then, Unni is prodding me to hurry. Do you have a question?
Yeah, says Sweezus. The deadline.........
Crackle crackle.... Unni's phone has died.
Deadline? says Schopenhauer.
Damn, says Unni. I knew it. Now we don't have a map. Does anybody have a charger?
I have a charger, says Rachelle. I'll get it.
On her way out, she glances at the font.
You might want to remove those barnacles before the next christening, she says to Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Hi Unni, says Sweezus. It's me, Sweezus.
Hi! says Unni. She starts to giggle.
What's funny? says Sweezus.
Some guys here thought your name was Tweezers, says Unni.
That's not funny, says Sweezus. Where are you?
In Beaconsfield with Arthur, says Unni.
Cool! And Schopenhauer? says Sweezus.
Yeah, Schopenhauer, says Unni. And Gaius and Captain Louttit.
Awesome, says Sweezus. Who's Captain Louttit?
By now Unni has reached the open door of St Francis Xavier, and entered.
Just some old Sea Captain lobster that decided to tag along with us, says Unni, walking down the aisle towards the font.
Rachelle Hawkins overhears this casual dismissal of Captain Louttit, and stops transcribing Arthur's poem.
Captain Louttit is a valued member of the tourism industry, says Rachelle Hawkins. I won't have him spoken of like that.
Pardon? says Unni. This is a private conversation.
What? says Sweezus. I know it's a private conversation.
Sorry Sweezie, says Unni. I wasn't talking to you.
Are you talking to Sweezus? says Arthur.
My, my, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. Is this the famous Sweezus on the phone? Could I have a word?
No, says Unni. I don't like your tone.
Was that Schopenhauer? says Sweezus.
No, it wasn't, says Unni. It was Father Martin Aye Ngwe. But you can talk to Schopenhauer if you like. Just don't take too long. I'm nearly out of battery.
Geez, says Sweezus. Don't you guys have a charger?
Just hurry up, says Unni, handing Schopenhauer the phone.
Who is it? says Schopenhauer.
Me, says Sweezus.
Ah, Sweezus, says Schopenhauer. Did you have a pleasant Easter?
Trashed it, says Sweezus. I got totally wasted. Pleasant's not the word.
We've had an enjoyable time here in St Francis Xavier's, says Schopenhauer. Eating hot ......
Schopenhauer suddenly remembers what Unni said about Sweezus hating hot cross buns.
....and we are currently seeing Captain Louttit being resurrected before our very eyes, continues Schopenhauer smoothly.
Yeah? And how's your new bike going? says Sweezus, changing the subject from resurrection equally smoothly.
Perfect, perfect, says Schopenhauer. Couldn't ask for better. Now then, Unni is prodding me to hurry. Do you have a question?
Yeah, says Sweezus. The deadline.........
Crackle crackle.... Unni's phone has died.
Deadline? says Schopenhauer.
Damn, says Unni. I knew it. Now we don't have a map. Does anybody have a charger?
I have a charger, says Rachelle. I'll get it.
On her way out, she glances at the font.
You might want to remove those barnacles before the next christening, she says to Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Zoology, Theology And Psychoanalysis
Gaius, Schopenhauer and Captain Louttit have spent a challenging day in St Francis Xavier's discussing zoology and theology with Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
It is late afternoon, when Arthur enters.
Arthur! says Gaius. Have you brought the water?
Not exactly, says Arthur. But I know where to get it.
We all know where to get it, says Gaius. You were sent there. Where is the jug?
In here, says Arthur, unslinging his Sea World carry bag from his shoulder. Empty. I should have taken Schopenhauer's bicycle. It has a basket.
We should have thought of that, says Schopenhauer. I would not have minded. In fact, I would have happily gone myself.
Captain Louttit is becoming agitated. He is drying out.
Soon it will be too late, says Captain Louttit.
Nonsense, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. It is never too late in the eyes of God.
No, no, Martin, says Schopenhauer. You may know a great deal about zoology, but you have a blind spot when it comes to logic. Even assuming.....
There is a sound of squealing brakes outside St Francis Xavier. A Seahorse World van has skidded to a halt just near the door.
Rachelle Hawkins bursts in, holding aloft a clear plastic bag of saline solution, sealed at the top with a yellow plastic toggle.
Am I too late? cries Rachelle Hawkins.
No! cries Captain Louttit.
Thank goodness, cries Rachelle Hawkins, turning to Arthur. Where's that jug you had?
Arthur holds the sangria jug out to Rachelle, who places it next to Captain Louttit on the font, and begins to fill it slowly with saline solution.
Careful, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. Don't spill any in the font.
It's harmless, says Gaius.
But unconsecrated, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
I'm not spilling it, don't worry, says Rachelle. I'm not wasting it in your silly font.
Even Schopenhauer is a little shocked to hear this. Surely one may hold opposing ideas in one's head at once.
Now Rachelle has finished pouring water, and has lifted Captain Louttit gently into the jug.
There now, Captain Louttit, says Rachelle. Relax and recover. Poor old you.
She sits down on a pew, next to Arthur who is transcribing his Sea Horse poem onto a postcard.
Did you pay for that postcard? asks Rachelle Hawkins.
Arthur keeps on writing. He is up to "sweet prolactin".
Sweet prolactin, says Rachelle. My! You have done your homework. A poet, are you? May I have a copy?
No, says Arthur. Not unless you pay.
..........
Sweezus checks his phone. Arthur has replied to his message.
He has replied: ax unni.
What does that mean?
He tries calling, but Arthur's phone is now out of battery.
He calls Professor Freud.
Hello! says Freud. Depressed are we? After Easter?
Nup, says Sweezus. Got a mystery message. It's from Arthur.
Go on, says Freud. What is it?
ax unni, says Sweezus. What d'you reckon?
Axe Unni, says Freud. I'd say it was a death wish. You must warn her.
But what if it isn't? says Sweezus.
Does it have an E? asks Freud, suddenly twigging.
No, says Sweezus.
Aha! says Freud. I suspect he means 'ask Unni'. It's the funny way young people text these days.
Sweezus is embarrassed, being a young person. But he pretends he isn't
Thanks mate, says Sweezus.
Any time, says Freud.
It is late afternoon, when Arthur enters.
Arthur! says Gaius. Have you brought the water?
Not exactly, says Arthur. But I know where to get it.
We all know where to get it, says Gaius. You were sent there. Where is the jug?
In here, says Arthur, unslinging his Sea World carry bag from his shoulder. Empty. I should have taken Schopenhauer's bicycle. It has a basket.
We should have thought of that, says Schopenhauer. I would not have minded. In fact, I would have happily gone myself.
Captain Louttit is becoming agitated. He is drying out.
Soon it will be too late, says Captain Louttit.
Nonsense, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. It is never too late in the eyes of God.
No, no, Martin, says Schopenhauer. You may know a great deal about zoology, but you have a blind spot when it comes to logic. Even assuming.....
There is a sound of squealing brakes outside St Francis Xavier. A Seahorse World van has skidded to a halt just near the door.
Rachelle Hawkins bursts in, holding aloft a clear plastic bag of saline solution, sealed at the top with a yellow plastic toggle.
Am I too late? cries Rachelle Hawkins.
No! cries Captain Louttit.
Thank goodness, cries Rachelle Hawkins, turning to Arthur. Where's that jug you had?
Arthur holds the sangria jug out to Rachelle, who places it next to Captain Louttit on the font, and begins to fill it slowly with saline solution.
Careful, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. Don't spill any in the font.
It's harmless, says Gaius.
But unconsecrated, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
I'm not spilling it, don't worry, says Rachelle. I'm not wasting it in your silly font.
Even Schopenhauer is a little shocked to hear this. Surely one may hold opposing ideas in one's head at once.
Now Rachelle has finished pouring water, and has lifted Captain Louttit gently into the jug.
There now, Captain Louttit, says Rachelle. Relax and recover. Poor old you.
She sits down on a pew, next to Arthur who is transcribing his Sea Horse poem onto a postcard.
Did you pay for that postcard? asks Rachelle Hawkins.
Arthur keeps on writing. He is up to "sweet prolactin".
Sweet prolactin, says Rachelle. My! You have done your homework. A poet, are you? May I have a copy?
No, says Arthur. Not unless you pay.
..........
Sweezus checks his phone. Arthur has replied to his message.
He has replied: ax unni.
What does that mean?
He tries calling, but Arthur's phone is now out of battery.
He calls Professor Freud.
Hello! says Freud. Depressed are we? After Easter?
Nup, says Sweezus. Got a mystery message. It's from Arthur.
Go on, says Freud. What is it?
ax unni, says Sweezus. What d'you reckon?
Axe Unni, says Freud. I'd say it was a death wish. You must warn her.
But what if it isn't? says Sweezus.
Does it have an E? asks Freud, suddenly twigging.
No, says Sweezus.
Aha! says Freud. I suspect he means 'ask Unni'. It's the funny way young people text these days.
Sweezus is embarrassed, being a young person. But he pretends he isn't
Thanks mate, says Sweezus.
Any time, says Freud.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Mind Off Easter
Unni glares at Paul.
Suddenly the penny drops. He wants to screw her.
You think I'm some air-head townie, says Unni. You think you can screw me. Think again.
What did you scratch the Commodore with? says Paul, thinking of a nail file.
Tweezers, says Unni.
That was it! says Simon-Peter. Tweezers!
You didn't see, says Unni.
Nah, says Simon-Peter. Tweezers! His new name.
Ezekial nods solemnly in agreement.
Benedict shakes his head. No. Not Tweezers.
Sweezus! says Benedict. It was Sweezus. Yeah?
You guys are idiots, says Unni. Yes it was Sweezus. He's a colleague of mine.
So, says Paul, it was Sweezus that scratched the Commodore.
Yes, says Unni, thinking: Tweezers, Sweezus. It's not that different.
So yeah, says Simon-Peter. We'd be dickheads if we took the fucken door off.
Paul's plan for screwing Unni is defeated.
Unni walks away.
.........
Arthur is still working on his poem as he approaches Beaconsfield.
It's nearly finished. He just needs to find a special word for something.
If only he had..... but wait..... he does have a phone, somewhere deep down in his pocket. It's been switched off for days.
He stops pedaling. One foot on the road. Hand in pocket, rummaging.
He finds the phone. It's sticky. He turns it on. Good. It has a tiny bit of battery.
He searches the internet for the word. Prolactin!
Arthur likes the word.
He notices that he has one message. It's from Sweezus.
HEY Arthur, cd u get Schpnher to snd me smthng pronto. hw is tssi? Easter here is shit as per usual you?
Arthur replies, with his last bit of battery: ax unni.
Sweezus will figure out what that means.
As Arthur cycles, he recites the finished poem in his head:
The Pot-Bellied Sea Horse.
Daddy! It is natural to wonder why
Squirting a stream of babies
From your rocky-coloured pouch
Into the turbulence of ocean tides
And treacherous dark currents
After nourishing us on sweet prolactin
Makes any sense to Mother.
It's good, thinks Arthur. Sweezus will like it. Take his mind off shit as per usual Easter.
Suddenly the penny drops. He wants to screw her.
You think I'm some air-head townie, says Unni. You think you can screw me. Think again.
What did you scratch the Commodore with? says Paul, thinking of a nail file.
Tweezers, says Unni.
That was it! says Simon-Peter. Tweezers!
You didn't see, says Unni.
Nah, says Simon-Peter. Tweezers! His new name.
Ezekial nods solemnly in agreement.
Benedict shakes his head. No. Not Tweezers.
Sweezus! says Benedict. It was Sweezus. Yeah?
You guys are idiots, says Unni. Yes it was Sweezus. He's a colleague of mine.
So, says Paul, it was Sweezus that scratched the Commodore.
Yes, says Unni, thinking: Tweezers, Sweezus. It's not that different.
So yeah, says Simon-Peter. We'd be dickheads if we took the fucken door off.
Paul's plan for screwing Unni is defeated.
Unni walks away.
.........
Arthur is still working on his poem as he approaches Beaconsfield.
It's nearly finished. He just needs to find a special word for something.
If only he had..... but wait..... he does have a phone, somewhere deep down in his pocket. It's been switched off for days.
He stops pedaling. One foot on the road. Hand in pocket, rummaging.
He finds the phone. It's sticky. He turns it on. Good. It has a tiny bit of battery.
He searches the internet for the word. Prolactin!
Arthur likes the word.
He notices that he has one message. It's from Sweezus.
HEY Arthur, cd u get Schpnher to snd me smthng pronto. hw is tssi? Easter here is shit as per usual you?
Arthur replies, with his last bit of battery: ax unni.
Sweezus will figure out what that means.
As Arthur cycles, he recites the finished poem in his head:
The Pot-Bellied Sea Horse.
Daddy! It is natural to wonder why
Squirting a stream of babies
From your rocky-coloured pouch
Into the turbulence of ocean tides
And treacherous dark currents
After nourishing us on sweet prolactin
Makes any sense to Mother.
It's good, thinks Arthur. Sweezus will like it. Take his mind off shit as per usual Easter.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
It Is Natural To Wonder Why
Arthur is pleased to have the Seahorse World carry bag. Now he won't have to hook the jug over his handlebars.
He drops the jug into the carry bag, slings it over his shoulder and starts riding back to Beaconsfield.
On the way he's thinking of a poem he plans to write about the pot bellied sea dragon, for the postcard that he's going to send to Sweezus.
Has he forgotten all about the water?
No, he hasn't.
Arthur has decided that it is enough to know the location of the water. He will relay that information to Schopenhauer when he gets back to St Francis Xavier.
Let Schopenhauer get on his Platonic Ideal and make himself useful. After all, he's the only one who has a basket.
So thinks Arthur, but briefly. He is more interested in his new sea dragon poem.
He has the first line:
"Daddy! It is natural to wonder why ..."
This is because Arthur has read the back of the postcard and learned it is the male seahorse who gives birth to seahorse progeny.
He pedals rhythmically and tries to formulate line two
.........
Unni, meanwhile has walked down the road towards the main street.
Beaconfield is not so big these days. Once it was a thriving gold town. Now, if you walk down the road towards the main street, you might bump into someone you have met before.
Such as the owners of the Holden Commodore you defaced earlier.
There is the Holden Commodore, parked outside Simon-Peter's brother's car detailing business.
There is Benedict. There is Simon-Peter, and Ezekial. And Simon-Peter's older brother, Paul.
They are looking at the passenger door of the Holden Commodore with frowning faces, debating the future of the fish.
I could do a paint correction, says Paul. Use the proper pads. I reckon microfibre oughta do it.
Too fucken deep though don't you reckon, says Simon-Peter.
Yeah well, says Paul. Depends. You could always make it, like.... er...... buff it up, make it like a feature.
Yeah? says Benedict. Fish by Jesus! Man that'd be fucken cool.
That's her, says Ezekial. That's her coming.
Ezekial is right. Unni is walking by at just this moment.
All good? says Unni.
Hello, says Paul. You the one that done this?
Yes, says Unni. Are you painting over it?
No, says Paul. Too deep. I'm going to have to replace the entire door. It's gonna be expensive.
Unni looks alarmed.
Benedict, Simon-Peter and Ezekial look confused.
Does Paul know what he's doing?
He drops the jug into the carry bag, slings it over his shoulder and starts riding back to Beaconsfield.
On the way he's thinking of a poem he plans to write about the pot bellied sea dragon, for the postcard that he's going to send to Sweezus.
Has he forgotten all about the water?
No, he hasn't.
Arthur has decided that it is enough to know the location of the water. He will relay that information to Schopenhauer when he gets back to St Francis Xavier.
Let Schopenhauer get on his Platonic Ideal and make himself useful. After all, he's the only one who has a basket.
So thinks Arthur, but briefly. He is more interested in his new sea dragon poem.
He has the first line:
"Daddy! It is natural to wonder why ..."
This is because Arthur has read the back of the postcard and learned it is the male seahorse who gives birth to seahorse progeny.
He pedals rhythmically and tries to formulate line two
.........
Unni, meanwhile has walked down the road towards the main street.
Beaconfield is not so big these days. Once it was a thriving gold town. Now, if you walk down the road towards the main street, you might bump into someone you have met before.
Such as the owners of the Holden Commodore you defaced earlier.
There is the Holden Commodore, parked outside Simon-Peter's brother's car detailing business.
There is Benedict. There is Simon-Peter, and Ezekial. And Simon-Peter's older brother, Paul.
They are looking at the passenger door of the Holden Commodore with frowning faces, debating the future of the fish.
I could do a paint correction, says Paul. Use the proper pads. I reckon microfibre oughta do it.
Too fucken deep though don't you reckon, says Simon-Peter.
Yeah well, says Paul. Depends. You could always make it, like.... er...... buff it up, make it like a feature.
Yeah? says Benedict. Fish by Jesus! Man that'd be fucken cool.
That's her, says Ezekial. That's her coming.
Ezekial is right. Unni is walking by at just this moment.
All good? says Unni.
Hello, says Paul. You the one that done this?
Yes, says Unni. Are you painting over it?
No, says Paul. Too deep. I'm going to have to replace the entire door. It's gonna be expensive.
Unni looks alarmed.
Benedict, Simon-Peter and Ezekial look confused.
Does Paul know what he's doing?
Sunday, April 20, 2014
A Penchant For Complications
Arthur is happy to be out of St Francis Xavier and back in the fresh air of Beaconsfield.
Where is the Tamar? It must be somewhere down the road.
He pedals along the A7 with the empty jug hooked over one of his handlebars.
Tasmania looks nice.
Chilly though. Not the weather for Brave Soul Paisley Skull Shorts.
Trees, vineyards, apple orchards. River!
Arthur stops and looks around.
In front of him, a sandy beach and access to the River Tamar. It looks a bit too easy.
A little further down the road is Seahorse World.
Arthur rides up to the iron sheds of Seahorse World, Platypus House and the Underwater Centre. He leaves his bike in the car park and walks into the shop.
Arthur could have scooped a jug of water from the river at the sandy beach spot. What is he doing here? Does he have a penchant for complications?
It would appear so.
Arthur browses through the souvenir postcards depicting seadragons of different types, along with spider crabs and cuttlefish and sharks.
It strikes him as a good idea to send one of these cards to Sweezus. Which one?
The potbellied sea horse. Sweezus will think it's funny. Which it is. A seahorse with a pot belly. Who wouldn't laugh their head off, seeing that?
Arthur's reverie is interrupted by Rachelle Hawkins, marine biologist and part owner of the aquaculture venture.
Hello, says Rachelle. I see that you are interested in the pot bellied seahorse? Would you like to join the tour? Cave of the Seahorse. Working Seahorse Farm. It's starting in ten minutes. Only twenty dollars.
No thanks, says Arthur. I just want to buy a postcard and get some river water in my jug for Captain Louttit.
Captain Louttit? says Rachelle . Don't tell me he's here?
He's at St Francis Xavier in Beaconsfield, says Arthur. In the font.
Gracious! says Rachelle That's no environment for a seafaring lobster.
He's not being converted, says Arthur. Anyway, that's why I'm here. Getting water.
Rachelle looks severe.
You are browsing through the postcards, says Rachelle. As though you have all the time in the world. But you haven't. Where's your jug?
Outside says Arthur. On the handlebars of my bicycle.
Rachelle sucks in her breath.
You don't treat sea creatures in in such a cavalier manner. Making them wait by coming on a bicycle.
She disappears out the back to check on the availability of water with the correct salinity for Captain Louttit.
Arthur picks up several potbellied seadragon postcards, shoves them in his pocket, then leaves without paying. His reasoning is this:
She is going to give him water from an Aquaculture Centre. It must be worth something. He is not waiting for the water. Therefore she has made a gain of water, in exchange for which, he will take the postcards.
And postcards being cheap commodities (or so thinks Arthur), he helps himself to a large blue cotton Seahorse World carry bag as well.
Where is the Tamar? It must be somewhere down the road.
He pedals along the A7 with the empty jug hooked over one of his handlebars.
Tasmania looks nice.
Chilly though. Not the weather for Brave Soul Paisley Skull Shorts.
Trees, vineyards, apple orchards. River!
Arthur stops and looks around.
In front of him, a sandy beach and access to the River Tamar. It looks a bit too easy.
A little further down the road is Seahorse World.
Arthur rides up to the iron sheds of Seahorse World, Platypus House and the Underwater Centre. He leaves his bike in the car park and walks into the shop.
Arthur could have scooped a jug of water from the river at the sandy beach spot. What is he doing here? Does he have a penchant for complications?
It would appear so.
Arthur browses through the souvenir postcards depicting seadragons of different types, along with spider crabs and cuttlefish and sharks.
It strikes him as a good idea to send one of these cards to Sweezus. Which one?
The potbellied sea horse. Sweezus will think it's funny. Which it is. A seahorse with a pot belly. Who wouldn't laugh their head off, seeing that?
Arthur's reverie is interrupted by Rachelle Hawkins, marine biologist and part owner of the aquaculture venture.
Hello, says Rachelle. I see that you are interested in the pot bellied seahorse? Would you like to join the tour? Cave of the Seahorse. Working Seahorse Farm. It's starting in ten minutes. Only twenty dollars.
No thanks, says Arthur. I just want to buy a postcard and get some river water in my jug for Captain Louttit.
Captain Louttit? says Rachelle . Don't tell me he's here?
He's at St Francis Xavier in Beaconsfield, says Arthur. In the font.
Gracious! says Rachelle That's no environment for a seafaring lobster.
He's not being converted, says Arthur. Anyway, that's why I'm here. Getting water.
Rachelle looks severe.
You are browsing through the postcards, says Rachelle. As though you have all the time in the world. But you haven't. Where's your jug?
Outside says Arthur. On the handlebars of my bicycle.
Rachelle sucks in her breath.
You don't treat sea creatures in in such a cavalier manner. Making them wait by coming on a bicycle.
She disappears out the back to check on the availability of water with the correct salinity for Captain Louttit.
Arthur picks up several potbellied seadragon postcards, shoves them in his pocket, then leaves without paying. His reasoning is this:
She is going to give him water from an Aquaculture Centre. It must be worth something. He is not waiting for the water. Therefore she has made a gain of water, in exchange for which, he will take the postcards.
And postcards being cheap commodities (or so thinks Arthur), he helps himself to a large blue cotton Seahorse World carry bag as well.
Saturday, April 19, 2014
The Bad Luck One Can Have
Arthur has finished his bun and gone off to find the Tamar River with the jug.
Captain Louttit is perched cautiously on the stone rim of the font, keeping his legs dry.
As a zoologist, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe, may I ask you something, Captain Louttit?
Fire away, says Captain Louttit.
You said you were a vegan, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
I did, and I am, says Captain Louttit.
And gave that as a reason to keep clear of my font, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Aye, says Captain Louttit.
May I ask what is in a font that might deter a vegan? asks Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
The body and the blood, says Captain Louttit.
No, no, you have the wrong end of the stick there, say Father Martin Aye Ngwe. That is in the biscuits. This is water. However we do dip tiny children in it, so perhaps you show the greater wisdom.
Thank you, says Captain Louttit. I'm not too fond of river water either.
The rivers are pristine here in Tasmania, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. So they tell me.
Been here long? asks Gaius.
Not long, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I am from Sydney. I was hounded out of Broken Bay, through no fault of my own, by the Lay Leadership Juggernaut.........but I won't trouble you with my story.
Father Martin Aye Ngwe looks sad momentarily.
Courage, says Schopenhauer. You have my sympathy. I remember being hounded out of Berlin University.
What happened to you there? asks Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
I scheduled my lectures to coincide with the lectures of Hegel, says Schopenhauer. And no one came to mine. He was the more famous of us at the time.
Gaius, Schopenhauer, Father Martin Aye Ngwe and Captain Louttit are silent as they contemplate the bad luck one can have.
Even the Virgin Mother, remembering her recent kicking, looks quite sour.
Captain Louttit is perched cautiously on the stone rim of the font, keeping his legs dry.
As a zoologist, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe, may I ask you something, Captain Louttit?
Fire away, says Captain Louttit.
You said you were a vegan, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
I did, and I am, says Captain Louttit.
And gave that as a reason to keep clear of my font, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Aye, says Captain Louttit.
May I ask what is in a font that might deter a vegan? asks Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
The body and the blood, says Captain Louttit.
No, no, you have the wrong end of the stick there, say Father Martin Aye Ngwe. That is in the biscuits. This is water. However we do dip tiny children in it, so perhaps you show the greater wisdom.
Thank you, says Captain Louttit. I'm not too fond of river water either.
The rivers are pristine here in Tasmania, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. So they tell me.
Been here long? asks Gaius.
Not long, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I am from Sydney. I was hounded out of Broken Bay, through no fault of my own, by the Lay Leadership Juggernaut.........but I won't trouble you with my story.
Father Martin Aye Ngwe looks sad momentarily.
Courage, says Schopenhauer. You have my sympathy. I remember being hounded out of Berlin University.
What happened to you there? asks Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
I scheduled my lectures to coincide with the lectures of Hegel, says Schopenhauer. And no one came to mine. He was the more famous of us at the time.
Gaius, Schopenhauer, Father Martin Aye Ngwe and Captain Louttit are silent as they contemplate the bad luck one can have.
Even the Virgin Mother, remembering her recent kicking, looks quite sour.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Anything But Jesus
Arthur, Unni, Gaius and Schopenhauer follow the Holden Commodore to Beaconsfield.
The Commodore pulls up outside St Francis Xavier.
Father Martin Aye Ngwe comes out.
Boys! says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. You've missed morning Mass. What scamps you are!
We just got here, says Benedict, getting out of the Commodore.
It's Good Friday, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. Morning Mass. Ten o'clock. Three Spires Ecumenical Walk. You missed all of it.
Sorry, Father, says Simon-Peter. We were talking to these guys. They reckon they know Jesus.
Father Martin Aye Ngwe turns to inspect the cycling party.
They think they know Jesus? He'll see if that is true.
Welcome all, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. Come inside.
Very kind, says Gaius. I have a great interest in architecture.
I hope that is not your only interest, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Of course not, says Gaius. I am a natural historian..
You don't say, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I myself am a zoologist.
Wow! says Unni.
When is he going to ask them about Jesus?
I'm a great fan of Pliny the Elder, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Gaius turns red with pleasure.
He stands before you, says Gaius.
My goodness. Come in, come in all of you, says Father Martin. I'll make a cup of tea.
They all go in, except Benedict, Simon-Peter and Ezekial, who drive off to find Simon-Peter's brother, a Beaconsfield car detailer, who might know what to do about the fish.
We're on a pilgrimage, says Unni. To Hobart.
Bless you, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. Hobart. Good luck with that.
Any biscuits? asks Arthur.
What am I thinking? says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I have hot cross buns in the oven.
Jesus doesn't like hot cross buns, says Unni.
Oh yes, you know him of course, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
He calls himself Sweezus these days, says Unni. He writes articles for a philosophical magazine. He gets me to help him with the editing.
I enjoy a bit of philosophy, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Glad to hear it, says Schopenhauer. I too enjoy a bit of philosophy. By the way, have you got any sea water?
For your lobster? says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I'm sorry, I have what's in the font, but it's not very salty.
I refuse to have font water, says Captain Louttit. I am a vegan.
We're quite close to the Tamar, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. It's saline and tidal.
Arthur, says Gaius. How about taking a run down to the Tamar?
Let him have his bun first, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Arthur sits down in a pew and looks idly at the various crucifixions.
Nice church, says Gaius, looking around. Is that your mother?
She is everyone's mother, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. But don't worry, I realise you're joking.
I am not religious, says Gaius. Schopenhauer here is a Buddhist. Arthur is a poet. And Unni has her own congregation, somewhere in Blaxland.
A poet, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I have always admired Goethe.
So have I, says Schopenhauer. In fact I knew him quite well. We collaborated on a theory of Vision and Colour.
Unni has had enough of being ignored. She gets up and walks out of St Francis Xavier, kicking the Virgin Mother on the way.
Where is she going? asks Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I wanted to have a chat to her about journalism. I used to teach Communication and Skills.
The Commodore pulls up outside St Francis Xavier.
Father Martin Aye Ngwe comes out.
Boys! says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. You've missed morning Mass. What scamps you are!
We just got here, says Benedict, getting out of the Commodore.
It's Good Friday, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. Morning Mass. Ten o'clock. Three Spires Ecumenical Walk. You missed all of it.
Sorry, Father, says Simon-Peter. We were talking to these guys. They reckon they know Jesus.
Father Martin Aye Ngwe turns to inspect the cycling party.
They think they know Jesus? He'll see if that is true.
Welcome all, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. Come inside.
Very kind, says Gaius. I have a great interest in architecture.
I hope that is not your only interest, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Of course not, says Gaius. I am a natural historian..
You don't say, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I myself am a zoologist.
Wow! says Unni.
When is he going to ask them about Jesus?
I'm a great fan of Pliny the Elder, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Gaius turns red with pleasure.
He stands before you, says Gaius.
My goodness. Come in, come in all of you, says Father Martin. I'll make a cup of tea.
They all go in, except Benedict, Simon-Peter and Ezekial, who drive off to find Simon-Peter's brother, a Beaconsfield car detailer, who might know what to do about the fish.
We're on a pilgrimage, says Unni. To Hobart.
Bless you, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. Hobart. Good luck with that.
Any biscuits? asks Arthur.
What am I thinking? says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I have hot cross buns in the oven.
Jesus doesn't like hot cross buns, says Unni.
Oh yes, you know him of course, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
He calls himself Sweezus these days, says Unni. He writes articles for a philosophical magazine. He gets me to help him with the editing.
I enjoy a bit of philosophy, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Glad to hear it, says Schopenhauer. I too enjoy a bit of philosophy. By the way, have you got any sea water?
For your lobster? says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I'm sorry, I have what's in the font, but it's not very salty.
I refuse to have font water, says Captain Louttit. I am a vegan.
We're quite close to the Tamar, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. It's saline and tidal.
Arthur, says Gaius. How about taking a run down to the Tamar?
Let him have his bun first, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.
Arthur sits down in a pew and looks idly at the various crucifixions.
Nice church, says Gaius, looking around. Is that your mother?
She is everyone's mother, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. But don't worry, I realise you're joking.
I am not religious, says Gaius. Schopenhauer here is a Buddhist. Arthur is a poet. And Unni has her own congregation, somewhere in Blaxland.
A poet, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I have always admired Goethe.
So have I, says Schopenhauer. In fact I knew him quite well. We collaborated on a theory of Vision and Colour.
Unni has had enough of being ignored. She gets up and walks out of St Francis Xavier, kicking the Virgin Mother on the way.
Where is she going? asks Father Martin Aye Ngwe. I wanted to have a chat to her about journalism. I used to teach Communication and Skills.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
How To Disarm A Christian
Gaius and Schopenhauer dismount and creep up on the Holden Commodore.
They hear demonic laughter coming from the open window.
And wonder what to do.
.......
They needn't worry.
The boys have knocked Unni and Arthur off their bikes and hauled them into the back seat of the Holden Commodore, among the empty bottles and MacDonald's wrappers, and a few discarded chips.
Arthur is feeling hungry, and picks a chip up.
Which one of yous did it? says the youthful driver (whose name is Benedict).
Me, says Unni. You asked for it, remember? And ha ha , now everyone will think you're Christians.
Fuck that, says a second boy ( whose name is Simon-Peter). We already are Christians.
Yeah, says the third boy ( Ezekial ). How'd you fucken know?
Country town lads, says Unni. Which town do you come from?
Beaconsfield, says Benedict. We're goin' home for Easter.
Awesome, says Unni. We're going to Beaconsfield. Will the shops be open?
Nah, says Benedict. Not at fucken Easter.
Geez yeah, no, the shops'll all be shut for fucken Easter, says Simon Peter.
That's too bad, says Arthur, who has sensibly put down his risky chip.
Follow us, says Benedict. We're former altar boys. We'll take you to see Father Martin. He'll help yous.
You guys are awesome, says Unni. The fellowship of Christians is God's blessing.
Arthur looks sideways at Unni. Is she kidding?
I know Jesus personally, continues Unni. So does Arthur.
Fuck, says Ezekial. What's he like?
He doesn't call himself Jesus these days, says Unni, airily. His friends all call him Sweezus.
That's pretty cool, says Simon-Peter. Father Martin will fucken shit himself.
This prompts the demonic laughter that Gaius and Schopenhauer are hearing.
Gaius raps sharply on the passenger door.
Arthur sticks his head out.
Is everything all right? says Gaius.
Just having a bit of fellowship, says Arthur. Out in a minute.
Schopenhauer looks shocked for a second. Is that what young people call it nowadays?
He shoots a look at Gaius.
But Gaius has maintained his equanimity.
They hear demonic laughter coming from the open window.
And wonder what to do.
.......
They needn't worry.
The boys have knocked Unni and Arthur off their bikes and hauled them into the back seat of the Holden Commodore, among the empty bottles and MacDonald's wrappers, and a few discarded chips.
Arthur is feeling hungry, and picks a chip up.
Which one of yous did it? says the youthful driver (whose name is Benedict).
Me, says Unni. You asked for it, remember? And ha ha , now everyone will think you're Christians.
Fuck that, says a second boy ( whose name is Simon-Peter). We already are Christians.
Yeah, says the third boy ( Ezekial ). How'd you fucken know?
Country town lads, says Unni. Which town do you come from?
Beaconsfield, says Benedict. We're goin' home for Easter.
Awesome, says Unni. We're going to Beaconsfield. Will the shops be open?
Nah, says Benedict. Not at fucken Easter.
Geez yeah, no, the shops'll all be shut for fucken Easter, says Simon Peter.
That's too bad, says Arthur, who has sensibly put down his risky chip.
Follow us, says Benedict. We're former altar boys. We'll take you to see Father Martin. He'll help yous.
You guys are awesome, says Unni. The fellowship of Christians is God's blessing.
Arthur looks sideways at Unni. Is she kidding?
I know Jesus personally, continues Unni. So does Arthur.
Fuck, says Ezekial. What's he like?
He doesn't call himself Jesus these days, says Unni, airily. His friends all call him Sweezus.
That's pretty cool, says Simon-Peter. Father Martin will fucken shit himself.
This prompts the demonic laughter that Gaius and Schopenhauer are hearing.
Gaius raps sharply on the passenger door.
Arthur sticks his head out.
Is everything all right? says Gaius.
Just having a bit of fellowship, says Arthur. Out in a minute.
Schopenhauer looks shocked for a second. Is that what young people call it nowadays?
He shoots a look at Gaius.
But Gaius has maintained his equanimity.
And No Birds Sing
The car is a Holden Commodore. Three boys get out.
Yah! says one of them, bumping deliberately into Unni. Get a car!
They disappear inside the Visitor Centre.
I'll get a car! says Unni. Their car.
She scratches a diagrammatic fish on the passenger door paintwork.
Ha, ha, says Unni. Now everyone will think they're Christians.
Gaius, Schopenhauer, Unni and Arthur ride off in a hurry.
That was quick thinking, says Arthur.
Not really , says Unni. I used to do it all the time in Blaxland.
Where to now ? says Gaius.
Left, says Unni, down the dirt road.
I still have my sea legs, says Schopenhauer. I hope it isn't rutted.
The road is rutted.
Water spills out of Captain Louttit's jug all over Schopenhauer's trousers, due to the laws of motion.
Damn! says Schopenhauer. This isn't working.
He stops to pour some more sea water out.
Gaius stops behind him.
Schopenhauer, my good chap, says Gaius, you will leave Captain Louttit with no water. Remember we are riding through a forest.
Can't be helped, says Schopenhauer. Unless you can see a way to fit the Ass Saver mudguards on the front.....
Don't be ridiculous, says Gaius. A little water on your trousers.....
Captain Louttit sticks his head out of the jug.
Not to worry, says Captain Louttit. I'm an old sea dog. And the barnacles could do with toughening up.
Come on, says Gaius. We must catch up with Arthur and Unni. She's the only one who knows the way.
They mount their bicycles and ride along the rutted road through the forest.
The Holden Commodore comes up behind them, passes them and keeps on going.
Yeehah! cries one of the boys from the passenger window.
Dear me, says Gaius. They'll catch up with Arthur and Unni. We must ride faster.
It isn't good for Schopenhauer's sea legs.
Five minutes later they come upon an unexpected scene.
Two familiar bicycles lie in the grass beside the rutted track. A Holden Commodore, half obscured by dark trees, stands ominously still.
And no birds sing.
Yah! says one of them, bumping deliberately into Unni. Get a car!
They disappear inside the Visitor Centre.
I'll get a car! says Unni. Their car.
She scratches a diagrammatic fish on the passenger door paintwork.
Ha, ha, says Unni. Now everyone will think they're Christians.
Gaius, Schopenhauer, Unni and Arthur ride off in a hurry.
That was quick thinking, says Arthur.
Not really , says Unni. I used to do it all the time in Blaxland.
Where to now ? says Gaius.
Left, says Unni, down the dirt road.
I still have my sea legs, says Schopenhauer. I hope it isn't rutted.
The road is rutted.
Water spills out of Captain Louttit's jug all over Schopenhauer's trousers, due to the laws of motion.
Damn! says Schopenhauer. This isn't working.
He stops to pour some more sea water out.
Gaius stops behind him.
Schopenhauer, my good chap, says Gaius, you will leave Captain Louttit with no water. Remember we are riding through a forest.
Can't be helped, says Schopenhauer. Unless you can see a way to fit the Ass Saver mudguards on the front.....
Don't be ridiculous, says Gaius. A little water on your trousers.....
Captain Louttit sticks his head out of the jug.
Not to worry, says Captain Louttit. I'm an old sea dog. And the barnacles could do with toughening up.
Come on, says Gaius. We must catch up with Arthur and Unni. She's the only one who knows the way.
They mount their bicycles and ride along the rutted road through the forest.
The Holden Commodore comes up behind them, passes them and keeps on going.
Yeehah! cries one of the boys from the passenger window.
Dear me, says Gaius. They'll catch up with Arthur and Unni. We must ride faster.
It isn't good for Schopenhauer's sea legs.
Five minutes later they come upon an unexpected scene.
Two familiar bicycles lie in the grass beside the rutted track. A Holden Commodore, half obscured by dark trees, stands ominously still.
And no birds sing.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
A Metaphysical Question
Why are we travelling east? asks Arthur.
It's the way I want to go, says Unni.
Let me see your map, says Arthur.
Call up your own map, says Unni.
Can't, says Arthur.
.......
Schopenhauer is riding slowly, wobbling and breathing hard.
Uuuuuhuh, says Schopenhauer.
Something wrong with the bicycle? enquires Captain Louttit, from the basket.
No, says Schopenhauer. It's impossible for something to be wrong with the bicycle. It's a Platonic Ideal.
You then? says Captain Louttit, sympathetically. Still got your sea legs?
That will be it, says Schopenhauer. I'm generally very good at everything.
........
Gaius is riding behind Schopenhauer, not listening to this conversation.
The countryside is gently undulating, through farms and poppy fields.
How very pleasant. How far did Unni say it was to Hobart? Seven hundred kilometres? Tasmania must be bigger than he thought....
......
Trouble is fermenting amongst the barnacles.
Did you hear what he said? says the barnacle with the rudimentary education. "Very good at everything".
Not natural history, says the second barnacle.
What's that, comrade? asks number three.
It's questions, says the educated barnacle. Questions like 'are we seafood?' and 'what's beyond?'
Silence! shouts Captain Louttit. Shut up down below!
Educated barnacle has had enough of obedience and submission. Flicking open her operculum she speaks up boldly.
A question for you, Captain.
Spit it out, says Captain Louttit.
Are we merely seafood? asks the educated Barnacle.
I am not, says Captain Louttit. You are.
If you're not, we're not, says the educated barnacle. We want equality.
In your dreams! says Captain Louttit. Any more questions?
What's beyond? asks the educated barnacle.
A National Park, I understand, says Captain Louttit.
It was a metaphysical question, mutters the educated barnacle.
..........
By lunch time they have reached Narawntapu National Park, and stopped at the Visitor Centre to see the ranger.
It's twelve dollars each for a National Parks Pass.
That's steep, says Gaius. Is it worth it? What's to see here?
Wombats, says the ranger. Bakers Beach. View from Anders Knob. Wallabies, potoroos, the Asbestos Ranges, flies........
Flies! says Schopenhauer.
Asbestos! shrieks Unni.
They are about to turn and leave when a car of rednecks pulls up outside the Visitor Centre.
Mildly menacing.
It's the way I want to go, says Unni.
Let me see your map, says Arthur.
Call up your own map, says Unni.
Can't, says Arthur.
.......
Schopenhauer is riding slowly, wobbling and breathing hard.
Uuuuuhuh, says Schopenhauer.
Something wrong with the bicycle? enquires Captain Louttit, from the basket.
No, says Schopenhauer. It's impossible for something to be wrong with the bicycle. It's a Platonic Ideal.
You then? says Captain Louttit, sympathetically. Still got your sea legs?
That will be it, says Schopenhauer. I'm generally very good at everything.
........
Gaius is riding behind Schopenhauer, not listening to this conversation.
The countryside is gently undulating, through farms and poppy fields.
How very pleasant. How far did Unni say it was to Hobart? Seven hundred kilometres? Tasmania must be bigger than he thought....
......
Trouble is fermenting amongst the barnacles.
Did you hear what he said? says the barnacle with the rudimentary education. "Very good at everything".
Not natural history, says the second barnacle.
What's that, comrade? asks number three.
It's questions, says the educated barnacle. Questions like 'are we seafood?' and 'what's beyond?'
Silence! shouts Captain Louttit. Shut up down below!
Educated barnacle has had enough of obedience and submission. Flicking open her operculum she speaks up boldly.
A question for you, Captain.
Spit it out, says Captain Louttit.
Are we merely seafood? asks the educated Barnacle.
I am not, says Captain Louttit. You are.
If you're not, we're not, says the educated barnacle. We want equality.
In your dreams! says Captain Louttit. Any more questions?
What's beyond? asks the educated barnacle.
A National Park, I understand, says Captain Louttit.
It was a metaphysical question, mutters the educated barnacle.
..........
By lunch time they have reached Narawntapu National Park, and stopped at the Visitor Centre to see the ranger.
It's twelve dollars each for a National Parks Pass.
That's steep, says Gaius. Is it worth it? What's to see here?
Wombats, says the ranger. Bakers Beach. View from Anders Knob. Wallabies, potoroos, the Asbestos Ranges, flies........
Flies! says Schopenhauer.
Asbestos! shrieks Unni.
They are about to turn and leave when a car of rednecks pulls up outside the Visitor Centre.
Mildly menacing.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
The Rednecks and The Hipster
Seven o'clock in the morning. The Spirit of Tasmania has docked in Devonport. All passengers with bicycles have disembarked.
Devonport, says Gaius, looking around. At last. Now, where is Hobart?
Unni calls up a map.
We're here, says Unni. Hobart is down the bottom. About seven hundred kilometres away.
Schopenhauer pats the tan San Marco saddle of his bicycle.
You'll be glad of that, says Unni. Your bike looks really comfy. And you have a basket. It's kind of hipster.
Excuse me, says Captain Louttit. I have a question.
What? says Gaius.
I am a sailing man, says Captain Louttit. I know little about bicycles.
Do you think that is a question? asks Schopenhauer. Tell me. Your answer may affect my theory of natural history.
I thought your theory referred exclusively to barnacles, says Gaius.
Not any more, says Schopenhauer. I'm extending it to other types of seafood, and beyond.
The listening barnacles experience a sinking feeling. Are they seafood? And......what is beyond?
I hadn't got round to my question, resumes Captain Louttit. My question is, am I needed for this overland leg? I could make my way by sea and meet you in Hobart.
Wouldn't hear of it, says Gaius. You are a valued member of our party and the guardian of my barnacles.
Our barnacles, says Schopenhauer.
Of course, says Gaius. Our barnacles.
Mode of travel? says Captain Louttit.
Schopenhauer will carry you, says Gaius. In his basket.
Arthur is glad that they have reached this resolution. Perhaps now they can get going.
Arthur places the jug containing Captain Louttit and the barnacles into the hipster basket of the bicycle of Schopenhauer, spilling water on the tan San Marco seat.
Careful! says Schopenhauer. I don't like wet trousers.
Nor me, says Arthur, carefully spilling a bit more.
Come on, says Unni. We have to cross a bridge, then find Route B71. It's forty kilometres to Narawntapu National Park.
They are riding their bicycles across the bridge when a car full of rednecks speeds by, narrowly missing them.
Rednecks, shouting redneck abuse, mildly menacing.
Devonport, says Gaius, looking around. At last. Now, where is Hobart?
Unni calls up a map.
We're here, says Unni. Hobart is down the bottom. About seven hundred kilometres away.
Schopenhauer pats the tan San Marco saddle of his bicycle.
You'll be glad of that, says Unni. Your bike looks really comfy. And you have a basket. It's kind of hipster.
Excuse me, says Captain Louttit. I have a question.
What? says Gaius.
I am a sailing man, says Captain Louttit. I know little about bicycles.
Do you think that is a question? asks Schopenhauer. Tell me. Your answer may affect my theory of natural history.
I thought your theory referred exclusively to barnacles, says Gaius.
Not any more, says Schopenhauer. I'm extending it to other types of seafood, and beyond.
The listening barnacles experience a sinking feeling. Are they seafood? And......what is beyond?
I hadn't got round to my question, resumes Captain Louttit. My question is, am I needed for this overland leg? I could make my way by sea and meet you in Hobart.
Wouldn't hear of it, says Gaius. You are a valued member of our party and the guardian of my barnacles.
Our barnacles, says Schopenhauer.
Of course, says Gaius. Our barnacles.
Mode of travel? says Captain Louttit.
Schopenhauer will carry you, says Gaius. In his basket.
Arthur is glad that they have reached this resolution. Perhaps now they can get going.
Arthur places the jug containing Captain Louttit and the barnacles into the hipster basket of the bicycle of Schopenhauer, spilling water on the tan San Marco seat.
Careful! says Schopenhauer. I don't like wet trousers.
Nor me, says Arthur, carefully spilling a bit more.
Come on, says Unni. We have to cross a bridge, then find Route B71. It's forty kilometres to Narawntapu National Park.
They are riding their bicycles across the bridge when a car full of rednecks speeds by, narrowly missing them.
Rednecks, shouting redneck abuse, mildly menacing.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
All You Could Wish For And a Spa
It takes a long time to locate Arthur. And he does know what to do.
Follow the drips, says Arthur.
Brilliant plan, says Unni. But we need to hurry. They'll be drying up.
Arthur, Unni, Gaius and Schopenhauer follow the trail of drips to the door of the Deluxe cabin.
Gaius knocks.
Come in, says Captin Louttit. It's not locked.
They go in.
Captain Louttit is comfortably positioned on a marble table in the middle of the Deluxe cabin, which has everything one could possibly wish for, and a spa.
Welcome all, says Captain Louttit. I was thinking of inviting you but had no means of getting to the phone.
A patent lie, but never mind that. All's well that ends well.
It is getting close to bedtime.
Arthur opens the bar fridge, which is packed full of drinks and snacks.
Help yourselves, says Captain Louttit. It's complimentary.
They help themselves, and even Captain Louttit has a tipple.
It is bedtime. There are three beds. A double and two singles.
This could be awkward, says Captain Louttit. Who's going to take the double?
Not at all awkward, says Gaius. In the interests of propriety Schopenhauer and I will take the double.
Of course, says Schopenhauer. We can't have the two young people sleeping together. Who knows what they might get up to?
So it is agreed. The sleeping arrangements are as follows.
Gaius and Schopenhauer will spend a restless night together in the double.
Arthur and Unni will sleep like logs apart.
Captain Louttit will remain in isolated splendour on the marble table.
Schopenhauer sits on the double bed to take his socks off and remembers the barnacles.
No problem. He will drop them in the jug.
Plop! Plop! Plop!
What's this? cries Captain Louttit. The prodigals return. Right, line up you slackers. In the corner.
But the barnacles have become politicised after their recent adventure.
The barnacle with the rudimentary education has explained the implications of Schopenhauer's natural history theory to her comrades, and turned it on its head.
The Influence of Human Intentions on the Tenacity of the Barnacle be damned! And that applies equally to lobsters. Suck on it, Captain Louttit.
Instead of lining up, the barnacles decide to stage a sit down.
Which looks to all intents and purposes the same.
All is quiet but for the sounds of heavy breathing, and bubbles.
Tomorrow morning, early, they dock in Devonport, third largest town in Tassie, described in Lonely Planet as mildly menacing.
Follow the drips, says Arthur.
Brilliant plan, says Unni. But we need to hurry. They'll be drying up.
Arthur, Unni, Gaius and Schopenhauer follow the trail of drips to the door of the Deluxe cabin.
Gaius knocks.
Come in, says Captin Louttit. It's not locked.
They go in.
Captain Louttit is comfortably positioned on a marble table in the middle of the Deluxe cabin, which has everything one could possibly wish for, and a spa.
Welcome all, says Captain Louttit. I was thinking of inviting you but had no means of getting to the phone.
A patent lie, but never mind that. All's well that ends well.
It is getting close to bedtime.
Arthur opens the bar fridge, which is packed full of drinks and snacks.
Help yourselves, says Captain Louttit. It's complimentary.
They help themselves, and even Captain Louttit has a tipple.
It is bedtime. There are three beds. A double and two singles.
This could be awkward, says Captain Louttit. Who's going to take the double?
Not at all awkward, says Gaius. In the interests of propriety Schopenhauer and I will take the double.
Of course, says Schopenhauer. We can't have the two young people sleeping together. Who knows what they might get up to?
So it is agreed. The sleeping arrangements are as follows.
Gaius and Schopenhauer will spend a restless night together in the double.
Arthur and Unni will sleep like logs apart.
Captain Louttit will remain in isolated splendour on the marble table.
Schopenhauer sits on the double bed to take his socks off and remembers the barnacles.
No problem. He will drop them in the jug.
Plop! Plop! Plop!
What's this? cries Captain Louttit. The prodigals return. Right, line up you slackers. In the corner.
But the barnacles have become politicised after their recent adventure.
The barnacle with the rudimentary education has explained the implications of Schopenhauer's natural history theory to her comrades, and turned it on its head.
The Influence of Human Intentions on the Tenacity of the Barnacle be damned! And that applies equally to lobsters. Suck on it, Captain Louttit.
Instead of lining up, the barnacles decide to stage a sit down.
Which looks to all intents and purposes the same.
All is quiet but for the sounds of heavy breathing, and bubbles.
Tomorrow morning, early, they dock in Devonport, third largest town in Tassie, described in Lonely Planet as mildly menacing.
Saturday, April 12, 2014
The Brotherhood Of The Sea
The Captain is on the bridge dealing with a shipping hazard.
He is grateful for the assistance of Captain Louttit.
I don't know what we should have done without your intimate knowledge of these waters, says the Captain.
Sunk, says Captain Louttit.
No doubt about it, says the Captain of the Spirit of Tasmania. As an acknowledgement of your invaluable assistance I shall personally see to it that you are upgraded.
Upgraded? says Captain Louttit. You know that I am travelling in a jug?
But the jug is resting on an Ocean Recliner, says the Captain. They are not very good. The mechanisms....
My jug isn't resting on an Ocean Recliner, says Captain Louttit. I'm perfectly happy on the floor.
I won't hear of it, says the Captain. You'll be upgraded to a Deluxe Cabin. I'll call one of our friendly crew members to conduct you.
It doesn't take long to organise a Deluxe Cabin if you are the Captain. Soon Captain Louttit is being led off to retrieve his jug, in order to then occupy a Deluxe room.
A moment later Gaius arrives to complain to the Captain.
It is due to the luck of timing that the door is open because Captain Louttit and the friendly crew member are coming out.
Gaius slips in and walks up to the Captain, who is now busy looking at his console.
This is my bridge, says the Captain, turning. How did you get in?
The door was open, says Gaius. I'm here to complain about my Ocean Recliner.
Go and see the purser, says the Captain. Or you might like to follow your friend Captain Louttit. He's being upgraded. He's just gone off this minute to get his jug.
Thank you, says Gaius. I knew that Captain Louttit would turn out to be an asset.
Indeed, says the Captain. I probably shouldn't tell you this but, he has just saved us all from sinking.
I don't doubt it, says Gaius. I'm sure you had something to do with it as well.
You are very gracious, says the Captain. But you must go now.
Gaius goes back to the Ocean Recliner Lounge.
Schopenhauer is sitting awkwardly upright on his Ocean Recliner with no back support.
Gaius, says Schopenhauer. This is insupportable. And the noise of all these televisions is distracting. Captain Louttit was just here with a friendly crew member and they've gone of with the jug. I've nowhere to put these cursed barnacles........
Which direction did they go off in? says Gaius. Think, man, it's important.
I didn't see, says Schopenhauer.
Then we're sunk, says Gaius. No wait, where's Arthur? He'll know what to do.
He is grateful for the assistance of Captain Louttit.
I don't know what we should have done without your intimate knowledge of these waters, says the Captain.
Sunk, says Captain Louttit.
No doubt about it, says the Captain of the Spirit of Tasmania. As an acknowledgement of your invaluable assistance I shall personally see to it that you are upgraded.
Upgraded? says Captain Louttit. You know that I am travelling in a jug?
But the jug is resting on an Ocean Recliner, says the Captain. They are not very good. The mechanisms....
My jug isn't resting on an Ocean Recliner, says Captain Louttit. I'm perfectly happy on the floor.
I won't hear of it, says the Captain. You'll be upgraded to a Deluxe Cabin. I'll call one of our friendly crew members to conduct you.
It doesn't take long to organise a Deluxe Cabin if you are the Captain. Soon Captain Louttit is being led off to retrieve his jug, in order to then occupy a Deluxe room.
A moment later Gaius arrives to complain to the Captain.
It is due to the luck of timing that the door is open because Captain Louttit and the friendly crew member are coming out.
Gaius slips in and walks up to the Captain, who is now busy looking at his console.
This is my bridge, says the Captain, turning. How did you get in?
The door was open, says Gaius. I'm here to complain about my Ocean Recliner.
Go and see the purser, says the Captain. Or you might like to follow your friend Captain Louttit. He's being upgraded. He's just gone off this minute to get his jug.
Thank you, says Gaius. I knew that Captain Louttit would turn out to be an asset.
Indeed, says the Captain. I probably shouldn't tell you this but, he has just saved us all from sinking.
I don't doubt it, says Gaius. I'm sure you had something to do with it as well.
You are very gracious, says the Captain. But you must go now.
Gaius goes back to the Ocean Recliner Lounge.
Schopenhauer is sitting awkwardly upright on his Ocean Recliner with no back support.
Gaius, says Schopenhauer. This is insupportable. And the noise of all these televisions is distracting. Captain Louttit was just here with a friendly crew member and they've gone of with the jug. I've nowhere to put these cursed barnacles........
Which direction did they go off in? says Gaius. Think, man, it's important.
I didn't see, says Schopenhauer.
Then we're sunk, says Gaius. No wait, where's Arthur? He'll know what to do.
Friday, April 11, 2014
The Influence Of Human Intentions
I know what's happened, says Unni. They've attached themselves to your leg through the material.
I should not have thought it possible, says Schopenhauer. This is good German material. I chose these trousers for their durability.
Never underestimate a barnacle, says Unni. My dad used to have a boat. To get them off you need a scraper, hydrochloric acid and lime remover.
A high pitched sound is heard in the region of the pocket.
I believe I felt a subtle loosening, says Schopenhauer.
Then you should hurry back inside, says Arthur.
Wait, says Schopenhauer. I came out to here to throw them overboard.
Another high pitched sound is heard, followed by a subtle tightening.
It may be meaningful. Schopenhauer formulates a hypothesis, and tests it.
On the other hand, he says loudly, I have no wish to terrorise the barnacles.
He takes a tentative step backwards in the direction of the illuminated sitting room.
Yes, there is no longer any suction. He congratulates himself on what he's learned.
Gaius is reclining on his Ocean Recliner, when Schopenhauer looms up beside him.
Lend me your notebook, my good chap, says Schopenhauer. I have a theory that may turn natural history on its head.
I never lend anyone my notebook, says Gaius. But in your case I'll make an exception. Let me first adjust my seat to the sitting position.
He fiddles with the mechanism. Nothing happens.
How irritating, says Gaius. I shall go and see the Captain. I believe he was about to warn us of the seating, when he was called away.
He gets up, and heads off in the direction of the Captain's bridge.
Schopenhauer sits down on his Ocean Recliner with the notebook. He begins to write:
Title: The Influence Of Human Intentions On The Tenacity Of The Barnacle.
He fails to notice that the barnacles are emerging from his pocket one by one.
They ease themselves over the corner of the notebook and onto the paper.
The first one can't read, nor can the second, but the third has had a rudimentary education.
She reads the title, and is mightily offended.
I should not have thought it possible, says Schopenhauer. This is good German material. I chose these trousers for their durability.
Never underestimate a barnacle, says Unni. My dad used to have a boat. To get them off you need a scraper, hydrochloric acid and lime remover.
A high pitched sound is heard in the region of the pocket.
I believe I felt a subtle loosening, says Schopenhauer.
Then you should hurry back inside, says Arthur.
Wait, says Schopenhauer. I came out to here to throw them overboard.
Another high pitched sound is heard, followed by a subtle tightening.
It may be meaningful. Schopenhauer formulates a hypothesis, and tests it.
On the other hand, he says loudly, I have no wish to terrorise the barnacles.
He takes a tentative step backwards in the direction of the illuminated sitting room.
Yes, there is no longer any suction. He congratulates himself on what he's learned.
Gaius is reclining on his Ocean Recliner, when Schopenhauer looms up beside him.
Lend me your notebook, my good chap, says Schopenhauer. I have a theory that may turn natural history on its head.
I never lend anyone my notebook, says Gaius. But in your case I'll make an exception. Let me first adjust my seat to the sitting position.
He fiddles with the mechanism. Nothing happens.
How irritating, says Gaius. I shall go and see the Captain. I believe he was about to warn us of the seating, when he was called away.
He gets up, and heads off in the direction of the Captain's bridge.
Schopenhauer sits down on his Ocean Recliner with the notebook. He begins to write:
Title: The Influence Of Human Intentions On The Tenacity Of The Barnacle.
He fails to notice that the barnacles are emerging from his pocket one by one.
They ease themselves over the corner of the notebook and onto the paper.
The first one can't read, nor can the second, but the third has had a rudimentary education.
She reads the title, and is mightily offended.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Impersonations
Arthur and Unni are leaning over the side of the Spirit of Tasmania, looking down into the deep black water with its trail of threshing whirlpools and frothy suckings.
This is super! says Unni.
Arthur doesn't answer. He is staring into the abyss, something he likes to do.
So, says Unni. We're looking for a giant jellyfish this time? Gaius is so funny.
Arthur's eyes have spotted phosphorescence and a ghostly flying fish.
And, says Unni, how come we're traveling with Captain Louttit? And how come the crew here knew him?
He's a captain from these parts, says Arthur vaguely.
But he's a lobster, says Unni.
Look, says Arthur. Phosphorescence.
Unni gets out her phone and taps the buttons. Thank goodness for phosphorescence. If that is what it is.
Wow, she says. There's a Book of Louttit. It's full of Louttits. Which one is he?
The lobster one, says Arthur.
Don't be smart, says Unni. I reckon he was this one. William Robertson Louttit, born in Stromness in 1817. He was master of the Apollo. Except he couldn't be. But he must be the one that he's impersonating!
Does it matter? says Arthur, looking at the spume.
Don't you like a mystery? says Unni.
I like a mystery, says Arthur. There's one over there.
He indicates a dark figure standing at the railing, frantically pulling at his trouser pockets.
That's Schopenhauer, says Unni. What's he doing?
They approach the distraught philosopher, from behind.
What's up? says Arthur. Something sticky in your pockets?
Not sticky, but immutable, says Schopenhauer, in a high tone. My trousers here are stuck like cement to my leg.
Why? says Unni. Oh wait! Is it the barnacles?
I suppose so, says Schopenhauer. I am a philosopher. How was I to know that this would happen?
Let me see, says Unni. I'll fix it. I'm good at this sort of thing.
Since when? says Arthur.
Since I took over dad's congregation, says Unni. Now stand back, and let me look into your pocket, Mr Schopenhauer. Hold it open.
He holds his trouser pocket open. She looks in.
Sure enough it is those pesky barnacles.
Barnacles are encrusters. They like to attach themselves permanently to a hard substrate. Failing that, a softer substrate will suffice.
This is super! says Unni.
Arthur doesn't answer. He is staring into the abyss, something he likes to do.
So, says Unni. We're looking for a giant jellyfish this time? Gaius is so funny.
Arthur's eyes have spotted phosphorescence and a ghostly flying fish.
And, says Unni, how come we're traveling with Captain Louttit? And how come the crew here knew him?
He's a captain from these parts, says Arthur vaguely.
But he's a lobster, says Unni.
Look, says Arthur. Phosphorescence.
Unni gets out her phone and taps the buttons. Thank goodness for phosphorescence. If that is what it is.
Wow, she says. There's a Book of Louttit. It's full of Louttits. Which one is he?
The lobster one, says Arthur.
Don't be smart, says Unni. I reckon he was this one. William Robertson Louttit, born in Stromness in 1817. He was master of the Apollo. Except he couldn't be. But he must be the one that he's impersonating!
Does it matter? says Arthur, looking at the spume.
Don't you like a mystery? says Unni.
I like a mystery, says Arthur. There's one over there.
He indicates a dark figure standing at the railing, frantically pulling at his trouser pockets.
That's Schopenhauer, says Unni. What's he doing?
They approach the distraught philosopher, from behind.
What's up? says Arthur. Something sticky in your pockets?
Not sticky, but immutable, says Schopenhauer, in a high tone. My trousers here are stuck like cement to my leg.
Why? says Unni. Oh wait! Is it the barnacles?
I suppose so, says Schopenhauer. I am a philosopher. How was I to know that this would happen?
Let me see, says Unni. I'll fix it. I'm good at this sort of thing.
Since when? says Arthur.
Since I took over dad's congregation, says Unni. Now stand back, and let me look into your pocket, Mr Schopenhauer. Hold it open.
He holds his trouser pocket open. She looks in.
Sure enough it is those pesky barnacles.
Barnacles are encrusters. They like to attach themselves permanently to a hard substrate. Failing that, a softer substrate will suffice.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
The Spirit Of Tasmania
Five o'clock on Station Pier. There is a queue to board the Spirit of Tasmania. In the queue are Gaius, Schopenhauer, Unni, Arthur, and their bicycles. Gaius holds the jug containing Captain Louttit.
They show their tickets to a friendly crew member.
Welcome aboard, says the friendly crew member. Bicycles that way, please. Good to see you, Captain Louttit.
Well I never, says Gaius, wheeling his bicycle in the direction indicated by the friendly crew member. How does he know Captain Louttit?
The bicycles are safely stowed. Now to find their designated Ocean Recliners.
........
Arthur and Unni have gone for a walk around the Spirit Of Tasmania to see what's on offer.
Gaius and Schopenhauer are testing out their seats.
Gaius fiddles with his mechanism. Crack! His seat drops back into the fully reclining position
Well done! says Schopenhauer. Show me what you did.
See here, says Gaius. You just turn this knob. That's it.
Crack! Now Schopenhauer's seat is fully reclined as well.
This will be most satisfactory, says Gaius. We shall sleep very well tonight. Uhh-herrrr, just breathe that bracing sea air.
Sniiiiff! Schopenhauer can't smell it. There is something fishy emanating from his trouser pocket.
........
Toot toot! The Spirit of Tasmania is on the move. Rurm-rurm. Chuurrr. Clang clang.
Dinner time already.
Gaius and Schopenhauer make their way out to the restaurant, The Captain's Table.
Captain Louttit not dining with you this evening? asks a friendly crew member.
No, says Gaius. He's ....what's all this nonsense about Captain Louttit?
He's quite well known in these parts, says the friendly crew member. I suppose you've read the Book of Louttit?
No, says Gaius. I must ask him to supply me with a copy.
He and Schopenhauer find themselves a table.
What's that smell? says Gaius, sniffing. Barnacles?
Himmel! says Schopenhauer. I forgot them! I shall go and throw them overboard.
Wait till after dinner, says Gaius.
The Captain of the Spirit of Tasmania comes over in his uniform which is how you know he is the Captain.
Good evening gentlemen, says the Captain. I hear you're travelling with Captain Louttit. Where is he?
We left him resting on an Ocean Recliner, says Gaius. We didn't realise he was shipping royalty.
Obviously, says the Captain. Or you would have booked a cabin. A word of advice about those recliners....
Yes? says Gaius.
But suddenly an incidental shipping noise calls the Captain to the bridge....
Burrrrrrrrr! Burrrrrrrr!
It will probably turn out to be nothing.
They show their tickets to a friendly crew member.
Welcome aboard, says the friendly crew member. Bicycles that way, please. Good to see you, Captain Louttit.
Well I never, says Gaius, wheeling his bicycle in the direction indicated by the friendly crew member. How does he know Captain Louttit?
The bicycles are safely stowed. Now to find their designated Ocean Recliners.
........
Arthur and Unni have gone for a walk around the Spirit Of Tasmania to see what's on offer.
Gaius and Schopenhauer are testing out their seats.
Gaius fiddles with his mechanism. Crack! His seat drops back into the fully reclining position
Well done! says Schopenhauer. Show me what you did.
See here, says Gaius. You just turn this knob. That's it.
Crack! Now Schopenhauer's seat is fully reclined as well.
This will be most satisfactory, says Gaius. We shall sleep very well tonight. Uhh-herrrr, just breathe that bracing sea air.
Sniiiiff! Schopenhauer can't smell it. There is something fishy emanating from his trouser pocket.
........
Toot toot! The Spirit of Tasmania is on the move. Rurm-rurm. Chuurrr. Clang clang.
Dinner time already.
Gaius and Schopenhauer make their way out to the restaurant, The Captain's Table.
Captain Louttit not dining with you this evening? asks a friendly crew member.
No, says Gaius. He's ....what's all this nonsense about Captain Louttit?
He's quite well known in these parts, says the friendly crew member. I suppose you've read the Book of Louttit?
No, says Gaius. I must ask him to supply me with a copy.
He and Schopenhauer find themselves a table.
What's that smell? says Gaius, sniffing. Barnacles?
Himmel! says Schopenhauer. I forgot them! I shall go and throw them overboard.
Wait till after dinner, says Gaius.
The Captain of the Spirit of Tasmania comes over in his uniform which is how you know he is the Captain.
Good evening gentlemen, says the Captain. I hear you're travelling with Captain Louttit. Where is he?
We left him resting on an Ocean Recliner, says Gaius. We didn't realise he was shipping royalty.
Obviously, says the Captain. Or you would have booked a cabin. A word of advice about those recliners....
Yes? says Gaius.
But suddenly an incidental shipping noise calls the Captain to the bridge....
Burrrrrrrrr! Burrrrrrrr!
It will probably turn out to be nothing.
He Can Take A Blow
Goodbye parents, says Unni. Don't let me hear that you've got back together.
No fear of that, dear, says Millicent, in a tone Ray doesn't like.
But Millicent , says Ray. I've changed. I've adjusted my religion. I now like cats. Perhaps we....
Unni rides away with Arthur, down the street, in the direction of Port Melbourne.
Mum doesn't like cats particularly, says Unni. Dad's forgotten.
Shwoooosh! Unni has a message on her iphone. It's from Ray.
Dad says come back at once, you've gone off with his half of the money, says Unni.
He should have thought of that before, says Arthur. Anyway, it's his half of nothing.
How come you lost it? asks Unni. Talk me through it.
It was in the snake box, says Arthur. Me and Sweezus ate and drank some of it, but there was plenty left.
And then what? Someone stole it? says Unni.
The snakes, says Arthur. They were going to the Pilbara. They said it was half theirs.
How come you were minding it? says Unni. Not dad and Gaius.
They were in hospital, says Arthur. Margaret was minding it. Then Katherine's dog got sick so Margaret left the the box with Katherine, but Katherine had to go to the police station........
So it's not your fault, says Unni. Stop here. We'll wait for Gaius and Schopenhauer to catch up. And you can tell them.
They stop and wait for Gaius and Schopenhauer to catch up. They have been going slowly.
This is why.
Heave to! cries Captain Louttit, every fifty metres.
Why? asks Gaius, eventually. What's the matter?
The barnacles are feeling nauseous, says Captain Louttit. I don't want our water polluted.
I'll deal with them, says Schopenhauer.
He reaches into the jug, wetting his shirt sleeve. Shoves a handful of barnacles into his trouser pocket.
Captain Louttit is astonished. So is Gaius.
But what can they do? It seems Schopenhauer is that sort of fellow.
They ride on in silence, until they catch up with Unni and Arthur.
Arthur has something to tell you, says Unni. Go on Arthur.
There is no money, says Arthur. But it's not my fault.
Bravo Arthur, says Unni. Gaius will just have to use his credit card.
Gaius is a Roman. He can take a blow. But he doesn't have a credit card.
This is awkward, says Gaius. I don't have a credit card.
Never mind, says Schopenhauer. I have money. I will pay for your ticket, Gaius, and in return you will teach me all about the history of nature.
Many thanks, dear fellow, says Gaius. And the first lesson will be, never put live barnacles in your pocket.
I was just being spontaneous, says Schopenhauer.
Leave that to the barnacles, says Gaius. And now what about Arthur? He has no benefactor.
He has fifty dollars, says Unni. And I'll lend him the rest. You can owe me, okay Arthur?
Arthur might be supposed to be unhappy with this, by someone who didn't know him very well.
No fear of that, dear, says Millicent, in a tone Ray doesn't like.
But Millicent , says Ray. I've changed. I've adjusted my religion. I now like cats. Perhaps we....
Unni rides away with Arthur, down the street, in the direction of Port Melbourne.
Mum doesn't like cats particularly, says Unni. Dad's forgotten.
Shwoooosh! Unni has a message on her iphone. It's from Ray.
Dad says come back at once, you've gone off with his half of the money, says Unni.
He should have thought of that before, says Arthur. Anyway, it's his half of nothing.
How come you lost it? asks Unni. Talk me through it.
It was in the snake box, says Arthur. Me and Sweezus ate and drank some of it, but there was plenty left.
And then what? Someone stole it? says Unni.
The snakes, says Arthur. They were going to the Pilbara. They said it was half theirs.
How come you were minding it? says Unni. Not dad and Gaius.
They were in hospital, says Arthur. Margaret was minding it. Then Katherine's dog got sick so Margaret left the the box with Katherine, but Katherine had to go to the police station........
So it's not your fault, says Unni. Stop here. We'll wait for Gaius and Schopenhauer to catch up. And you can tell them.
They stop and wait for Gaius and Schopenhauer to catch up. They have been going slowly.
This is why.
Heave to! cries Captain Louttit, every fifty metres.
Why? asks Gaius, eventually. What's the matter?
The barnacles are feeling nauseous, says Captain Louttit. I don't want our water polluted.
I'll deal with them, says Schopenhauer.
He reaches into the jug, wetting his shirt sleeve. Shoves a handful of barnacles into his trouser pocket.
Captain Louttit is astonished. So is Gaius.
But what can they do? It seems Schopenhauer is that sort of fellow.
They ride on in silence, until they catch up with Unni and Arthur.
Arthur has something to tell you, says Unni. Go on Arthur.
There is no money, says Arthur. But it's not my fault.
Bravo Arthur, says Unni. Gaius will just have to use his credit card.
Gaius is a Roman. He can take a blow. But he doesn't have a credit card.
This is awkward, says Gaius. I don't have a credit card.
Never mind, says Schopenhauer. I have money. I will pay for your ticket, Gaius, and in return you will teach me all about the history of nature.
Many thanks, dear fellow, says Gaius. And the first lesson will be, never put live barnacles in your pocket.
I was just being spontaneous, says Schopenhauer.
Leave that to the barnacles, says Gaius. And now what about Arthur? He has no benefactor.
He has fifty dollars, says Unni. And I'll lend him the rest. You can owe me, okay Arthur?
Arthur might be supposed to be unhappy with this, by someone who didn't know him very well.
Monday, April 7, 2014
The Politics Of Spines
The sea urchin spine has been extracted from Ray's foot with tweezers.
Millicent is about to drop it in the bin.
Before you do that, says Gaius, may I see it?
She thrusts the spine at him. He leans forward to have a look.
She is thinking: Now what? Is he going to want to keep it? How disgusting.
He is thinking: A purple spine. A little sticky. Of no particular interest.
She says: Would you like to keep it?
He says : Yes of course.
He extracts the spine from in between the tweezers, and drops it into Captain Louttit's jug.
Captain Louttit eyes it, floating gently down towards the anxious barnacles.
He is thinking: This is an insult which may later come in handy.
He says, not expecting an answer: Oho. What have we here?
He does not get an answer. Millicent is handing out the scones.
Any jam? asks Schopenhauer.
These are cheese scones, says Millicent.
A non sequitur, surely? says Schopenhauer.
Jam on cheese scones? says Millicent. But, if you'd like some....
Unni comes in from the garden shed where she has been with Arthur.
My old bike's here, says Unni. I'm going to Tasmania.
Ray, says Millicent. This is your fault.
But Ray has fallen into a spineless sleep.
When are we leaving? says Unni. We've already missed the morning ferry. What about tonight? Have you guys got tickets?
Not yet, says Gaius. I wonder what it costs?
Geez! says Unni. You guys are hopeless.
She gets out her phone and taps at it for several seconds.
A hundred and twenty nine dollars one way, for an Ocean Recliner, says Unni. Six dollars extra for a bike. Oh, look! There's half price fares next month.
We can't wait, says Gaius. And it matters little, because we have the money. Arthur has it.
He does, does he? says Unni, looking straight faced at Arthur.
She already knows what he has in his pockets.
His gold coin, which is unreliable, and fifty dollars, change from fish and chips.
Millicent is about to drop it in the bin.
Before you do that, says Gaius, may I see it?
She thrusts the spine at him. He leans forward to have a look.
She is thinking: Now what? Is he going to want to keep it? How disgusting.
He is thinking: A purple spine. A little sticky. Of no particular interest.
She says: Would you like to keep it?
He says : Yes of course.
He extracts the spine from in between the tweezers, and drops it into Captain Louttit's jug.
Captain Louttit eyes it, floating gently down towards the anxious barnacles.
He is thinking: This is an insult which may later come in handy.
He says, not expecting an answer: Oho. What have we here?
He does not get an answer. Millicent is handing out the scones.
Any jam? asks Schopenhauer.
These are cheese scones, says Millicent.
A non sequitur, surely? says Schopenhauer.
Jam on cheese scones? says Millicent. But, if you'd like some....
Unni comes in from the garden shed where she has been with Arthur.
My old bike's here, says Unni. I'm going to Tasmania.
Ray, says Millicent. This is your fault.
But Ray has fallen into a spineless sleep.
When are we leaving? says Unni. We've already missed the morning ferry. What about tonight? Have you guys got tickets?
Not yet, says Gaius. I wonder what it costs?
Geez! says Unni. You guys are hopeless.
She gets out her phone and taps at it for several seconds.
A hundred and twenty nine dollars one way, for an Ocean Recliner, says Unni. Six dollars extra for a bike. Oh, look! There's half price fares next month.
We can't wait, says Gaius. And it matters little, because we have the money. Arthur has it.
He does, does he? says Unni, looking straight faced at Arthur.
She already knows what he has in his pockets.
His gold coin, which is unreliable, and fifty dollars, change from fish and chips.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Ridiculous Parents
Melbourne at last. Schopenhauer slows down.
Where does this Millicent of yours live? asks Schopenhauer.
Mordialloc, says Ray. Keep going. It's a beachside suburb. There's a carpark with a statue of a horse.
The carpark is easily located, due to the horse.
She lives over the road, says Ray.
We should be going, says Gaius. We must book our tickets for the ferry.
No, come in and meet Millicent, says Ray.
He's thinking: There's strength in numbers.
But he says: She'll probably have scones.
Schopenhauer likes scones. He likes them with raspberry jam.
Ray knocks on the door of the house of Millicent Mountjoy-Moon.
Knock knock.
The door opens.
Dad! says Unni. What are you doing here?
Unni! What are you doing here? says Ray.
Visiting mum, says Unni. Where have you been? What's happened to your foot? Oh, hello Gaius. Hi, Arthur.
What's in that jug? Come on in.
Schopenhauer is thinking : How pleasant. How domestic. Perhaps I was wrong about marriage.
Millicent Mountjoy-Moon comes out of the bathroom..
Ray! says Millicent. This is unexpected. Unni, did you know he was coming?
No, mum, says Unni. Last I heard he'd been bitten by a python.
On the foot, I see, says Millicent. Very careless. Let's see, Ray.
No, says Ray. This is a sea urchin puncture. I was wondering....
Sit down, Ray, says Millicent. And who are these people?
This is Schopenhauer, says Ray. The real Schopenhauer.
Very nice, says Millicent. The real Schopenhauer. Tell me, Mr real-Schopenhauer, how is it that you are still alive?
Madam, says Schopenhauer. I have often asked myself the same question.
At least you are some kind of philosopher, says Millicent. May I offer you tea and scones?
We should be delighted, says Gaius.
I didn't ask you, says Millicent. Who might you be?
Gaius Plinius Secundus, says Gaius. Natural historian. On my way to Tasmania, seeking information on the giant jellyfish. And this is Arthur, my right hand man.
So this is the famous Arthur, says Millicent, shooting a look at her daughter.
Mum! says Unni. Don't call him the famous Arthur. It's so revealing.
Arthur wonders, revealing of what?
And I see he's brought us a present, says Millicent. A lobster and some shivering barnacles.
It's not a present, says Gaius. This is our honoured companion, Captain Louttit. He is in charge of the barnacles, all of whom are in excellent spirits.
Captain Louttit bows, insofar as is possible in a jug. The barnacles try to look brave.
Millicent! groans Ray. My foot is killing me!
Millicent lifts up his foot. Peels the sock off. Arggh! That hurts.
Oh Jesus! says Millicent. Wait a minute. She goes into the bathroom and comes back with the tweezers.
Tweezers at last! Dear Millicent! says Ray, happily, sinking back in the chair.
Unni grimaces at Arthur. Ridiculous parents!
You going to Tasmania? says Unni.
Yes, says Arthur. On bikes.
Mum, says Unni. Is my old bike still here?
I don't think so, says Millicent, quickly.
Where does this Millicent of yours live? asks Schopenhauer.
Mordialloc, says Ray. Keep going. It's a beachside suburb. There's a carpark with a statue of a horse.
The carpark is easily located, due to the horse.
She lives over the road, says Ray.
We should be going, says Gaius. We must book our tickets for the ferry.
No, come in and meet Millicent, says Ray.
He's thinking: There's strength in numbers.
But he says: She'll probably have scones.
Schopenhauer likes scones. He likes them with raspberry jam.
Ray knocks on the door of the house of Millicent Mountjoy-Moon.
Knock knock.
The door opens.
Dad! says Unni. What are you doing here?
Unni! What are you doing here? says Ray.
Visiting mum, says Unni. Where have you been? What's happened to your foot? Oh, hello Gaius. Hi, Arthur.
What's in that jug? Come on in.
Schopenhauer is thinking : How pleasant. How domestic. Perhaps I was wrong about marriage.
Millicent Mountjoy-Moon comes out of the bathroom..
Ray! says Millicent. This is unexpected. Unni, did you know he was coming?
No, mum, says Unni. Last I heard he'd been bitten by a python.
On the foot, I see, says Millicent. Very careless. Let's see, Ray.
No, says Ray. This is a sea urchin puncture. I was wondering....
Sit down, Ray, says Millicent. And who are these people?
This is Schopenhauer, says Ray. The real Schopenhauer.
Very nice, says Millicent. The real Schopenhauer. Tell me, Mr real-Schopenhauer, how is it that you are still alive?
Madam, says Schopenhauer. I have often asked myself the same question.
At least you are some kind of philosopher, says Millicent. May I offer you tea and scones?
We should be delighted, says Gaius.
I didn't ask you, says Millicent. Who might you be?
Gaius Plinius Secundus, says Gaius. Natural historian. On my way to Tasmania, seeking information on the giant jellyfish. And this is Arthur, my right hand man.
So this is the famous Arthur, says Millicent, shooting a look at her daughter.
Mum! says Unni. Don't call him the famous Arthur. It's so revealing.
Arthur wonders, revealing of what?
And I see he's brought us a present, says Millicent. A lobster and some shivering barnacles.
It's not a present, says Gaius. This is our honoured companion, Captain Louttit. He is in charge of the barnacles, all of whom are in excellent spirits.
Captain Louttit bows, insofar as is possible in a jug. The barnacles try to look brave.
Millicent! groans Ray. My foot is killing me!
Millicent lifts up his foot. Peels the sock off. Arggh! That hurts.
Oh Jesus! says Millicent. Wait a minute. She goes into the bathroom and comes back with the tweezers.
Tweezers at last! Dear Millicent! says Ray, happily, sinking back in the chair.
Unni grimaces at Arthur. Ridiculous parents!
You going to Tasmania? says Unni.
Yes, says Arthur. On bikes.
Mum, says Unni. Is my old bike still here?
I don't think so, says Millicent, quickly.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Goethe on Stones
It's not far from Lorne to Geelong.
Schopenhauer is driving. Ray wants to go faster. Gaius would prefer to slow down.
I'll make the decisions, says Schopenhauer, maintaining his speed.
You don't need to go through Geelong, says Ray. Take the bypass.
I have already looked at the map, says Schopenhauer. It's an old one, but I trust that the place is still there. I intend to visit the small coastal town of Indented Head.
Gaius is happy with that.
Ray isn't.
Schopenhauer turns east to the coast, and follows Esplanade Road to Indented Head.
Coffee break, says Schopenhauer. Ten minutes.
I'll stay in the Ute, mutters Ray.
He sits in the cabin and looks stonily at the features of Indented Head.
Shacks, a Post Office, a picturesque shipwreck offshore.
Arthur appears at the window, with Captain Louttit.
Here, says Arthur. Captain Louttit wants someone to talk to.
I'm bad company, says Ray. It's my foot.
Arthur hands Captain Louttit in through the window, spilling seawater out of the jug.
Steady, lad! says Captain Louttit.
Arthur goes off to join the others.
You're a mild-mannered bugger, says Ray.
Not really, says Captain Louttit. I have a controlled temper. See these barnacles?
What about them? saysRay.
Trembling, says Captain Louttit. Every last one of them. That's fear.
Ray looks hard at the barnacles inside the jug. It is difficult to tell if they're trembling or merely ingesting.
I'll take your word for it, says Ray. I suppose you threatened to eat them?
No, no, says Captain Louttit. There are better ways to terrify a crew.
Ray knows that, being a Pastor.
..........
Arthur, Gaius and Schopenhauer have found a cafe. They are drinking espressos, and admiring the picturesque shipwreck.
Peaceful place, says Schopenhauer. Calming. Have we finished?
Always in a hurry, says Gaius. I should like to examine the stones.
You have an interest in stones? says Schopenhauer. So did Goethe.
Who doesn't? says Arthur.
No need to take that tone, says Schopenhauer. Goethe wrote a great deal on stones.
Didn't he have any paper? says Arthur.
Schopenhauer ignores him, stands up, and heads back to the Ute.
.........
On the last leg to Melbourne, Gaius sits in the back, with Arthur and Captain Louttit.
Goethe, the expert on stones, says Gaius. First I've heard of it.
Stones? says Captain Louttit? Stones abound in this area. It is chock full, as it were, of stones. Bluestones and sandstones and limestones, brown coal and volcanic plains......
You see? says Gaius to Arthur. Even a lobster....
Yes, I see, says Arthur. You're jealous of Goethe.
Never, says Gaius. But Schopenhauer can be overbearing.
He's a bad driver, says Arthur. And he doesn't have a licence.
This makes Gaius feel better, and then, somewhat anxious.
It's lucky they're nearly in Melbourne.
Schopenhauer is driving. Ray wants to go faster. Gaius would prefer to slow down.
I'll make the decisions, says Schopenhauer, maintaining his speed.
You don't need to go through Geelong, says Ray. Take the bypass.
I have already looked at the map, says Schopenhauer. It's an old one, but I trust that the place is still there. I intend to visit the small coastal town of Indented Head.
Gaius is happy with that.
Ray isn't.
Schopenhauer turns east to the coast, and follows Esplanade Road to Indented Head.
Coffee break, says Schopenhauer. Ten minutes.
I'll stay in the Ute, mutters Ray.
He sits in the cabin and looks stonily at the features of Indented Head.
Shacks, a Post Office, a picturesque shipwreck offshore.
Arthur appears at the window, with Captain Louttit.
Here, says Arthur. Captain Louttit wants someone to talk to.
I'm bad company, says Ray. It's my foot.
Arthur hands Captain Louttit in through the window, spilling seawater out of the jug.
Steady, lad! says Captain Louttit.
Arthur goes off to join the others.
You're a mild-mannered bugger, says Ray.
Not really, says Captain Louttit. I have a controlled temper. See these barnacles?
What about them? saysRay.
Trembling, says Captain Louttit. Every last one of them. That's fear.
Ray looks hard at the barnacles inside the jug. It is difficult to tell if they're trembling or merely ingesting.
I'll take your word for it, says Ray. I suppose you threatened to eat them?
No, no, says Captain Louttit. There are better ways to terrify a crew.
Ray knows that, being a Pastor.
..........
Arthur, Gaius and Schopenhauer have found a cafe. They are drinking espressos, and admiring the picturesque shipwreck.
Peaceful place, says Schopenhauer. Calming. Have we finished?
Always in a hurry, says Gaius. I should like to examine the stones.
You have an interest in stones? says Schopenhauer. So did Goethe.
Who doesn't? says Arthur.
No need to take that tone, says Schopenhauer. Goethe wrote a great deal on stones.
Didn't he have any paper? says Arthur.
Schopenhauer ignores him, stands up, and heads back to the Ute.
.........
On the last leg to Melbourne, Gaius sits in the back, with Arthur and Captain Louttit.
Goethe, the expert on stones, says Gaius. First I've heard of it.
Stones? says Captain Louttit? Stones abound in this area. It is chock full, as it were, of stones. Bluestones and sandstones and limestones, brown coal and volcanic plains......
You see? says Gaius to Arthur. Even a lobster....
Yes, I see, says Arthur. You're jealous of Goethe.
Never, says Gaius. But Schopenhauer can be overbearing.
He's a bad driver, says Arthur. And he doesn't have a licence.
This makes Gaius feel better, and then, somewhat anxious.
It's lucky they're nearly in Melbourne.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
An Ethical Substitution
Early next morning at Lorne the sun comes up.
Schopenhauer wakes up (and breathes in the ozone).
Ray wakes up (and examines his foot).
Gaius sits up (and brushes the sand off his nose).
That's everyone up then.
And here is Arthur. Yes, Arthur is up.
Gaius remembers last night. Does he still have a barnacle? He looks at the jug.
Jupiter! The jug is empty of all but a few floating sea grapes!
Where has the Admiral gone?
Arthur, says Gaius. Have you seen that cursed lobster?
I was going to tell you, says Arthur.
Tell me what? says Gaius.
But you were asleep, says Arthur.
Thank you, says Gaius. But now you may tell me.
Arthur took it, says Ray. He came and took it back to the campfire at the end of the beach. I saw him. I was awake.
Arthur looks at Ray witheringly. Once a prick always a prick.
Truth dawns on Gaius.
You ate him!
Not just me, says Arthur. My new friends as well.
It was Arthur's lobster, says Schopenhauer.
Gaius mentally goes through the ethics.
Yes, it was Arthur's lobster. But they had all made friends. On the downside, the lobster had eaten all of his barnacles, after treating them badly. Singing lewd songs and making them dance. On balance Gaius is glad to be rid of Admiral de Guichen. And, as they are still at the beach, there should be time to collect more barnacles.....
Top of the morning! says someone.
They all turn around.
Mercy! says Ray. Another one!
Isn't it the same one? says Schopenhauer.
No, says Gaius, this one is different. Trust me, I am a natural historian.
I am looking for Admiral de Guichen, says Captain Louttit. Where is he?
Sadly, he has met his demise, says Gaius.
Alas, says Captain Louttit. My name is Captain Louttit. I was in hopes of joining him on the voyage to Tasmania. But I see I am too late. Was he eaten?
Yes, says Ray, he was eaten by......
Never mind, says Gaius. There is no profit in knowing by whom or by what he was eaten. Tell me, Captain Louttit, hypothetically speaking, what of barnacles? How should they be treated?
I'm for equality, says Captain Louttit. A fair do for all. That's my way. Always has been.
Yes but specifically, says Gaius. Do you eat them? Do you make them dance?
I am a vegan, says Captain Louttit.
Very commendable, says Gaius. And of course, you are a qualified sailor.
Indeed, says Captain Louttit. At your service.
Welcome aboard, Captain Louttit, says Gaius, indicating the jug.
And so, after a short time spent collecting more barnacles, the party, including a more amenable and qualified lobster, departs Lorne, in the direction of Geelong.
Schopenhauer wakes up (and breathes in the ozone).
Ray wakes up (and examines his foot).
Gaius sits up (and brushes the sand off his nose).
That's everyone up then.
And here is Arthur. Yes, Arthur is up.
Gaius remembers last night. Does he still have a barnacle? He looks at the jug.
Jupiter! The jug is empty of all but a few floating sea grapes!
Where has the Admiral gone?
Arthur, says Gaius. Have you seen that cursed lobster?
I was going to tell you, says Arthur.
Tell me what? says Gaius.
But you were asleep, says Arthur.
Thank you, says Gaius. But now you may tell me.
Arthur took it, says Ray. He came and took it back to the campfire at the end of the beach. I saw him. I was awake.
Arthur looks at Ray witheringly. Once a prick always a prick.
Truth dawns on Gaius.
You ate him!
Not just me, says Arthur. My new friends as well.
It was Arthur's lobster, says Schopenhauer.
Gaius mentally goes through the ethics.
Yes, it was Arthur's lobster. But they had all made friends. On the downside, the lobster had eaten all of his barnacles, after treating them badly. Singing lewd songs and making them dance. On balance Gaius is glad to be rid of Admiral de Guichen. And, as they are still at the beach, there should be time to collect more barnacles.....
Top of the morning! says someone.
They all turn around.
Mercy! says Ray. Another one!
Isn't it the same one? says Schopenhauer.
No, says Gaius, this one is different. Trust me, I am a natural historian.
I am looking for Admiral de Guichen, says Captain Louttit. Where is he?
Sadly, he has met his demise, says Gaius.
Alas, says Captain Louttit. My name is Captain Louttit. I was in hopes of joining him on the voyage to Tasmania. But I see I am too late. Was he eaten?
Yes, says Ray, he was eaten by......
Never mind, says Gaius. There is no profit in knowing by whom or by what he was eaten. Tell me, Captain Louttit, hypothetically speaking, what of barnacles? How should they be treated?
I'm for equality, says Captain Louttit. A fair do for all. That's my way. Always has been.
Yes but specifically, says Gaius. Do you eat them? Do you make them dance?
I am a vegan, says Captain Louttit.
Very commendable, says Gaius. And of course, you are a qualified sailor.
Indeed, says Captain Louttit. At your service.
Welcome aboard, Captain Louttit, says Gaius, indicating the jug.
And so, after a short time spent collecting more barnacles, the party, including a more amenable and qualified lobster, departs Lorne, in the direction of Geelong.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Crazy Night Beach Happening
It's dark The moon is new.
The sand is cool and silky, and faintly smells of matches.
The sea is doing what it does at night.
Shuuurrrsh......hrmmmm.......shuuurrrshh.
Ray is sleeping, but perhaps it is the rhythm.......Tung! He sits bolt upright on the sand.
The verse by Kipling has assembled itself in his subconscious.
He pulls at Schopenhauer's sleeve.
Wa...? says Schopenhauer, in startled German.
I remembered it, says Ray. It goes like this:
Buy my hot-wood clematis
Buy my frond of fern
Gathered where the Erskine leaps
Down the road to Lorne.
There are many things about that which are questionable, says Schopenhauer.
Did someone mention hot-wood clematis? says Gaius.
Kipling, says Ray. He mentioned it.
Gaius is puzzled. Has Kipling joined the party?
The silence is broken by the sound of lubricious singing, coming from the jug.
It's only me from over the sea......says.....Barnacle Bill the Sailor!
Gaius reaches over and raps on the jug.
The singing continues, uproariously:
Who's that kno..o..cking on my door?
Who's that kno..o..cking on my door?
Says the fair young Maiden!
Gaius peers into the jug, in time to see the last barnacle balancing precariously on Admiral de Guichen's large claw.
Dance, barnacle, damn ye! cries Admiral de Guichen.
The barnacle dances a jig of despair.
Wait! cries the barnacle in desperation. Think of Charles Darwin!
Charles Darwin hated barnacles as no man had before! says Admiral de Guichen. He said so.
Did he? says Gaius. That's news to me.
He didn't mean it, squeaks the barnacle. He was just tired of looking at us through a microscope for eight years.
Understandable, says Gaius. Now quieten down everyone. I need to get some shut-eye.
Everyone lies down again, or sinks to the bottom.
None of them has noticed Arthur, who has wandered down the beach towards a flickering campfire.
The sand is cool and silky, and faintly smells of matches.
The sea is doing what it does at night.
Shuuurrrsh......hrmmmm.......shuuurrrshh.
Ray is sleeping, but perhaps it is the rhythm.......Tung! He sits bolt upright on the sand.
The verse by Kipling has assembled itself in his subconscious.
He pulls at Schopenhauer's sleeve.
Wa...? says Schopenhauer, in startled German.
I remembered it, says Ray. It goes like this:
Buy my hot-wood clematis
Buy my frond of fern
Gathered where the Erskine leaps
Down the road to Lorne.
There are many things about that which are questionable, says Schopenhauer.
Did someone mention hot-wood clematis? says Gaius.
Kipling, says Ray. He mentioned it.
Gaius is puzzled. Has Kipling joined the party?
The silence is broken by the sound of lubricious singing, coming from the jug.
It's only me from over the sea......says.....Barnacle Bill the Sailor!
Gaius reaches over and raps on the jug.
The singing continues, uproariously:
Who's that kno..o..cking on my door?
Who's that kno..o..cking on my door?
Says the fair young Maiden!
Gaius peers into the jug, in time to see the last barnacle balancing precariously on Admiral de Guichen's large claw.
Dance, barnacle, damn ye! cries Admiral de Guichen.
The barnacle dances a jig of despair.
Wait! cries the barnacle in desperation. Think of Charles Darwin!
Charles Darwin hated barnacles as no man had before! says Admiral de Guichen. He said so.
Did he? says Gaius. That's news to me.
He didn't mean it, squeaks the barnacle. He was just tired of looking at us through a microscope for eight years.
Understandable, says Gaius. Now quieten down everyone. I need to get some shut-eye.
Everyone lies down again, or sinks to the bottom.
None of them has noticed Arthur, who has wandered down the beach towards a flickering campfire.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Bitter Experience
Cotton, says Captain Louttit. They were made of cotton. The bikinis.
Before the days of lycra, says Admiral de Guichen. Yes I remember. Particularly the bottoms. They were more.... ...what's the word I'm looking for....... bunchy.
That's the word for it, says Captain Louttit. Some of them were only made of string.
I know, says Admiral de Guichen. Not much left to the imagination.
Why does his stump feel itchy?
What happened to your leg? says Captain Louttit. You're missing a back pereipod.
Fell off when I was kidnapped, says Admiral de Guichen.
Kidnapped? says Captain Louttit. Are you on the run?
No, I'm on my way to Tasmania, says Admiral de Guichen. See that fellow over there?
With the jug? says Captain Louttit.
That's the one, says Admiral de Guichen. That jug is to be my vessel. How are the mighty fallen, eh?
I don't know, says Captain Louttit. I wouldn't mind seeing Tasmania. But your vessel's filling up.
Filling up? says Admiral de Guichen. Skittle my timbers! He's filling it with barnacles and sea grapes! I'd best push off before I lose my berth.
Farewell old friend. Fair winds and following seas! says Captain Louttit.
Following SEAS? says Admiral de Guichen. Not winds. Of course! That's how it goes.
.....
Arthur is scouring Lorne for the cheapest fish and chip shop. He finds the Salty Dog.
Fish and chips for four comes to just under fifty dollars, which is quite cheap for Lorne.
On the way back to the beach with fish and chips he passes the public toilets, outside which two girls are laughing.
One points to the house across the road.
The architect copied the design. It's so hilarious, she says.
I bet the owners hate it, says the other.
Arthur looks at the house and at the toilet.
He likes a town where such things are allowed.
.......
On the beach Schopenhauer, Ray, Arthur and Gaius eat their fish and chips while seagulls squabble all around them.
Scavengers! says Admiral de Guichen, from the safety of his barnacle and sea grape laden jug..
Chip? says Arthur.
No, thanks, says Admiral de Guichen, eyeing the barnacles. I might have something later on.
Not the barnacles! says Gaius. They are for research purposes.
Squaaawk! says a particularly aggressive seagull.
Arthur reaches into his pocket and tosses something long, thin and articulated to the seagull.
Was that what I think it was? says Ray.
He didn't want it, says Arthur.
Still, says Ray. It's disrespectful. A leg's shouldn't be a disposable commodity.
I agree, says Schopenhauer. Respect for animals
I forgot you were a Buddhist, says Ray.
Buddhist? says Gaius. May I enquire how that accords with eating fish and chips?
I'm not a practical Buddhist, says Schopenhauer. Now, we have a decision to make. Do we push on to Melbourne or stay here overnight?
Ray will want to get to Melbourne, says Gaius. He needs medical attention.
I do, says Ray. And I will get that from my Millicent, but I would rather surprise her in the morning that late at night. That's one thing I've learned from bitter experience.
So it's agreed. They will spend their last night sleeping on the beach.
Before the days of lycra, says Admiral de Guichen. Yes I remember. Particularly the bottoms. They were more.... ...what's the word I'm looking for....... bunchy.
That's the word for it, says Captain Louttit. Some of them were only made of string.
I know, says Admiral de Guichen. Not much left to the imagination.
Why does his stump feel itchy?
What happened to your leg? says Captain Louttit. You're missing a back pereipod.
Fell off when I was kidnapped, says Admiral de Guichen.
Kidnapped? says Captain Louttit. Are you on the run?
No, I'm on my way to Tasmania, says Admiral de Guichen. See that fellow over there?
With the jug? says Captain Louttit.
That's the one, says Admiral de Guichen. That jug is to be my vessel. How are the mighty fallen, eh?
I don't know, says Captain Louttit. I wouldn't mind seeing Tasmania. But your vessel's filling up.
Filling up? says Admiral de Guichen. Skittle my timbers! He's filling it with barnacles and sea grapes! I'd best push off before I lose my berth.
Farewell old friend. Fair winds and following seas! says Captain Louttit.
Following SEAS? says Admiral de Guichen. Not winds. Of course! That's how it goes.
.....
Arthur is scouring Lorne for the cheapest fish and chip shop. He finds the Salty Dog.
Fish and chips for four comes to just under fifty dollars, which is quite cheap for Lorne.
On the way back to the beach with fish and chips he passes the public toilets, outside which two girls are laughing.
One points to the house across the road.
The architect copied the design. It's so hilarious, she says.
I bet the owners hate it, says the other.
Arthur looks at the house and at the toilet.
He likes a town where such things are allowed.
.......
On the beach Schopenhauer, Ray, Arthur and Gaius eat their fish and chips while seagulls squabble all around them.
Scavengers! says Admiral de Guichen, from the safety of his barnacle and sea grape laden jug..
Chip? says Arthur.
No, thanks, says Admiral de Guichen, eyeing the barnacles. I might have something later on.
Not the barnacles! says Gaius. They are for research purposes.
Squaaawk! says a particularly aggressive seagull.
Arthur reaches into his pocket and tosses something long, thin and articulated to the seagull.
Was that what I think it was? says Ray.
He didn't want it, says Arthur.
Still, says Ray. It's disrespectful. A leg's shouldn't be a disposable commodity.
I agree, says Schopenhauer. Respect for animals
I forgot you were a Buddhist, says Ray.
Buddhist? says Gaius. May I enquire how that accords with eating fish and chips?
I'm not a practical Buddhist, says Schopenhauer. Now, we have a decision to make. Do we push on to Melbourne or stay here overnight?
Ray will want to get to Melbourne, says Gaius. He needs medical attention.
I do, says Ray. And I will get that from my Millicent, but I would rather surprise her in the morning that late at night. That's one thing I've learned from bitter experience.
So it's agreed. They will spend their last night sleeping on the beach.
Shining Waterfalls And Secret Houses
The Ute rolls into Lorne, and stops on Mountjoy Parade, where all the cafes are.
It's half past four.
Ah, Lorne, the jewel of the Great Ocean Road, says Ray. I have memories of family holidays here in the caravan park. Millicent, me, Bunny, Barty, Bingo.........
You brought rabbits? says Schopenhauer. How extraordinary.
Rabbits? says Ray. No no. Bunny is my daughter, that was her name before she became Unni.
He shoots a black look at Arthur, who is helping Admiral de Guichen down from the tray.
What was Unni like in those days? asks Arthur.
A treasure, says Ray. She used to take charge of Barty and Bingo and off they'd go. We wouldn't see them from dawn to supper time. Fishing, fishing, fishing.....
What for? says Gaius.
For Jesus, says Ray. That's how we used to work in those days. I know it was politically incorrect.
Disgraceful, says Schopenhauer. You and you wife ought to be horse whipped.
Water under the bridge, says Admiral de Guichen. Speaking of water....
Come with me, says Gaius. Give me the jug, Arthur.
Gaius, the jug and Admiral de Guichen make their way down to the rocks.
Right, says Schopenhauer. Let's get an early dinner. Any recommendations?
Fish and chips, says Ray. Unless you're paying.
I am paying, says Schopenhauer. I owe Arthur a dinner. What would you like, Arthur?
Fish and chips, says Arthur.
Here, says Schopenhauer, handing Arthur two fifty dollar notes. Get enough for everyone, and meet us on the beach.
Arthur goes off to find a fish and chip shop.
Schopenhauer and Ray go down to sit upon the sand.
It is a pretty bay, with rocks at one end, and steeply wooded hills in the background, threaded with shining waterfalls, and secret houses.
Kipling stayed here once, says Ray. He wrote a poem.
I bet it was dreadful, says Schopenhauer.
Actually it was, says Ray. If only I could remember it.
He closes his eyes, and tries to recall the verse he and Millicent had once laughed at.
Schopenhauer squints into the distance. He sees Gaius, with the sunlight flashing through his jug.
He can't see Admiral de Guichen.
Admiral de Guichen has gone as far as he can go, looking for Captain Louttit.
He is about to give up when he hears, AHOY! Admiral de Guichen!
Captain Louttit! cries Admiral de Guichen.
The two old sea dogs settle down for a yarn.
Just come through Port Fairy, says Admiral de Guichen.
How is it? says Captain Louttit. Much the same?
Gentrified, says Admiral de Guichen. You wouldn't know it.
Tell me about it, says Captain Louttit. Lorne was such a wild place in the sixties. Remember the Arab?
Hoarrr! says Admiral de Guichen. The Arab. Those girls in their bikinis. Do I what!
It's half past four.
Ah, Lorne, the jewel of the Great Ocean Road, says Ray. I have memories of family holidays here in the caravan park. Millicent, me, Bunny, Barty, Bingo.........
You brought rabbits? says Schopenhauer. How extraordinary.
Rabbits? says Ray. No no. Bunny is my daughter, that was her name before she became Unni.
He shoots a black look at Arthur, who is helping Admiral de Guichen down from the tray.
What was Unni like in those days? asks Arthur.
A treasure, says Ray. She used to take charge of Barty and Bingo and off they'd go. We wouldn't see them from dawn to supper time. Fishing, fishing, fishing.....
What for? says Gaius.
For Jesus, says Ray. That's how we used to work in those days. I know it was politically incorrect.
Disgraceful, says Schopenhauer. You and you wife ought to be horse whipped.
Water under the bridge, says Admiral de Guichen. Speaking of water....
Come with me, says Gaius. Give me the jug, Arthur.
Gaius, the jug and Admiral de Guichen make their way down to the rocks.
Right, says Schopenhauer. Let's get an early dinner. Any recommendations?
Fish and chips, says Ray. Unless you're paying.
I am paying, says Schopenhauer. I owe Arthur a dinner. What would you like, Arthur?
Fish and chips, says Arthur.
Here, says Schopenhauer, handing Arthur two fifty dollar notes. Get enough for everyone, and meet us on the beach.
Arthur goes off to find a fish and chip shop.
Schopenhauer and Ray go down to sit upon the sand.
It is a pretty bay, with rocks at one end, and steeply wooded hills in the background, threaded with shining waterfalls, and secret houses.
Kipling stayed here once, says Ray. He wrote a poem.
I bet it was dreadful, says Schopenhauer.
Actually it was, says Ray. If only I could remember it.
He closes his eyes, and tries to recall the verse he and Millicent had once laughed at.
Schopenhauer squints into the distance. He sees Gaius, with the sunlight flashing through his jug.
He can't see Admiral de Guichen.
Admiral de Guichen has gone as far as he can go, looking for Captain Louttit.
He is about to give up when he hears, AHOY! Admiral de Guichen!
Captain Louttit! cries Admiral de Guichen.
The two old sea dogs settle down for a yarn.
Just come through Port Fairy, says Admiral de Guichen.
How is it? says Captain Louttit. Much the same?
Gentrified, says Admiral de Guichen. You wouldn't know it.
Tell me about it, says Captain Louttit. Lorne was such a wild place in the sixties. Remember the Arab?
Hoarrr! says Admiral de Guichen. The Arab. Those girls in their bikinis. Do I what!
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