A Scientific Mind

To Gaius's annoyance, Katherine stops in Kingston.

Perhaps she needs the toilet.

But no. She has stopped to show Terence the Giant Lobster.

Is it dead? asks Terence.

No, says Katherine. It's not real. It's like the Big Banana in Queensland. And the Big Tomato

Waste of space, grumbles Gaius. Are we finished? Can we get on now?

While we're stopped we may as well visit the café, says Katherine. And does anyone need the toilet?

Me, says Saint Roley. But I can poo anywhere.

Ahem. Let's leave them to it.

......

Wittegenstein and Margaret have arrived on the Younghusband Peninsula.

They have set up a campsite of sorts, in front of a parabolic sand dune.

Margaret is looking for pipis, and Wittgenstein is doing a task she has set him.

A handful of sand, to be sorted into its various components.

In fact, Margaret was only half serious. But Wittgenstein is persisting.

He is glad he brought a notebook.

He has ripped out a page, divided it into squares by a process of folding and flattening, and laid it out on a beach towel.

He is proud of this method. He should be. He has a scientific mind. Did he not, at one time, work on the design of an aeronautical propellor?

He whistles. He is good at that too.

The sand particles are tiny. There appear to be two main types. Quartz and calcium carbonate.

First he separates the quartz crystals out. This takes longer than expected. Ach! It's because he is whistling, and blowing the particles. Solution. Stop whistling.

He stops.

Margaret comes back with some pipis.

How's it going? asks Margaret. Two piles? Only one of them is interesting.

Which one? asks Wittgenstein.

This one, says Margaret, sweeping the quartz crystals back to where they came from.

Wittgenstein now has one pile of calcium carbonate particles. It's as though he's done nothing.

I heard you whistling before, says Margaret. It was lovely. Perhaps after dinner you might whistle some more.

Now, she continues. I'm going to start fishing, or there won't be any dinner. Would you like to come with me?

Where to? asks Wittgenstein.

To the water, says Margaret. We stand in it and cast our lines out. And while we're waiting for bites, I'll explain how to divide your little pile of sand further.

Witgenstein imagines standing knee deep in water.

It's more than just water. The waves are high energy.

And he only has one pair of trousers.