Its Roots Wriggle

The Velogram now has a spade.

Start digging, says Vello. We'll handle the pot.

The Velogram grasps the spade handle.

Wait, says the Velogram. How do you do it?

What do you mean how do you do it? asks Vello.

Have you forgotten? asks the Velogram.

I forget nothing, says Vello. Nor should you.

I think he means that you may have forgotten he is a hologram, says David. And when he was set up in Ferney there was no suggestion of digging.

Cycling, yes, says the Velogram. Sitting about with my feet up, yes. Walking, yes. No digging.

What's to be done? asks Vello.

You begin, says the Velogram. I'll make mental notes, and then follow.

What if David does it? asks Vello. Could you follow?

Steady on, says David. What about that trainee fellow?

Jack is deadheading roses in the distance.

David goes over.

Can we borrow you for a minute? asks David.

I guess so, says Jack.

So Jack provides a model for the Velogram by digging up the bush in the corner.

I think I've got that, says the Velogram. For next time.

Jack goes back to deadheading.

The bush is upended, and needs potting. It's roots wriggle.

What do you know about potting? asks David.

The plant must be upright, says Vello. Here, help me lift it.

Not yet! shrieks the bush.

Did you hear something? asks Vello.

No, says David. Heave ho!

They lift the bush into the pot where it teeters, and comes to rest at an oblique angle.

Dirt, says the Velogram. You should have put dirt in first.

What would you know? asks Vello.

The bush panics. And sheds half of its foliage.

Argh! cries Vello. Our curtain!

Get some water, says David. We may yet save it.

Where from? asks Vello.

The wetland area, says David. Or that mouldy mirror fountain.

The bush hopes the water will come from the wetlands.

The Velogram goes off, to seek water.

He should probably have taken a bucket.

But there is no bucket.

Outdoor theatre has its limitations.