Insight And Fear Of The The Supernatural

The barbecued trout have been eaten. Schopenhauer is asleep in the grass.

He dreams of his poodles, Atma and Butz. He dreams he has died in his sitting room sitting next to his cat.

What is this? Could it be what Sweezus is writing?

Or could it be true?

He is roused from his pastoral torpor by a sharp kick from Gaius.

Sorry old fellow, says Gaius. Time to move on.

Did you kick me? asks Schopenhauer.

Of course not, says Gaius. Get up.

Goodbye Greg, goodbye Flossy, says Unni.

Goodbye Arthur, says Flossy.

Thanks for the cakes, says Arthur.

Here take a few more, says Flossy.

Goodbye Greg, says Schopenhauer, thanks for....

But let us omit any further camaraderie of tourists, and assume one party is glad to be going, and the other is glad to be seeing them go.

.......

On the road to New Norfolk, Unni rides beside Arthur.

Cars whizz past.

Through the trees there are glimpses of river.

Isn't it lovely, the Derwent, says Unni. And such pretty autumn trees. Like boxes of coloured pencils.....

That's a very insightful simile, says Arthur.

Thanks, says Unni. I try to see things as they actually are.

So do I, says Arthur.

However, they have not seen the blue Seahorse World bag floating parallel to them on the river.

To be fair its a fair way away.

........

Where are we going? asks Schopenhauer, who is still half asleep.

He is trying to keep up with Gaius, who is pedaling fast.

New Norfolk, says Gaius. It should take us two and a half hours, if we ride without stopping.

Three hours then, says Schopenhauer. Because we'll be stopping.

I won't be stopping, says Gaius. Not till I get to New Norfolk. I want to see the attractions before it gets dark.

Attractions? says Schopenhauer. That's not like you, Gaius to look at attractions.

It's these tourism flyers, says Gaius. They have me intrigued. Every place has a story. In New Norfolk for example is the grave of Betty King, the first white woman to set foot in Australia.

My, my, says Schopenhauer. Isn't that something. I should like to see it myself. But surely it wouldn't matter if it was dark when we got there? Not afraid of ghosts are you?

I am not afraid of the supernatural, says Gaius. But there may not be adequate lighting.

Oh, there may not be adequate lighting, says Schopenhauer, not believing a word.