Tender Night Thoughts After Chicken Salt

Are we THERE yet? asks Terence.

Nearly, says Rosamunda.

They are driving back into Smithton.

What'll be for dinner? asks Terence.

We haven't decided, says Unni.

Can I have chips? asks Terence.

I vote for chips, says Stew.

I vote for vegan, says Ying.

Chips are vegan, says Stew.

Not with chicken salt! frowns Ying.

You're not vegan, says Stew.

I am sometimes, says Ying.

Me too, says Rosamunda.

Me too, says Unni.

What's this? says Gaius, who has been thinking about magnesite cave systems.

We don't like chicken salt on chips, when we're being vegan, says Unni. Except for Stew.

There's no chicken in chicken salt, says Gaius.

Stew looks surprised.

They arrive back in Smithton.

They look for a nice B and B.

........

They find a nice B and B with two bedrooms.

Rosamunda, Unni and Ying are in one.

It is bedtime. The lights are out. But no one is asleep yet.

Ying: Is Arthur either of you's boyfriend?

Unni: Arthur? No.

Rosamunda: No, not Arthur. He's ..... a poet. Do you like him?

Ying: No! Yes. Well, he's nice.

Rosamunda: That's probably the first time anyone's used nice in connection with Arthur.

Ying: That's odd. What about the other one?

Unni: He WAS my boyfriend.

Rosamunda: Was he?  Why'd you break up?

Unni: He's a bit of a dickhead.

Rosamunda: So how come he's here?

Unni: I wanted him for a ......never mind.

Rosamunda: To get rid of the lobster? Then you didn't need him? And now he's .......?

Unni: Surplus to requirements. Exactly.

Ying: That's cruel.

Unni: Most men are surplus to requirements.

Rosamunda: Not all. I did love Ming Rong.

....

In the boys' bedroom, Terence is thinking of Baby Bin Penguin whose last words were: Don't go far off.

He sings softly to himself, in his bunk bed:

Don't go far off (sings Terence)
Not even for a day
Because a day is long
And I will be waiting
A penguin in a car park
Asleep.

You're not a penguin, says Stew.

It's not about me, says Terence. It's about Baby Bin Penguin.

And you, says Stew, (who is perceptive).

Nonsense, says Gaius, (who is not).