Will There Be Stars In The Sky?

Now, says Louisa. Plans for tomorrow.

And plans for tonight, says Gaius. We planned on camping.

In our one man tent, says Arthur.

You can put it up in my back garden, says Louisa.

Thanks, says Arthur.

But you don't have to sleep in it, adds Louisa. I have a spare room.

We'll be fine in the tent, says Gaius. 

You'll be finer, says Arthur, if I take the spare room.

So that is decided.

Louisa puts the kettle on, for green tea.

You like green tea? asks Louisa.

Not at bedtime, says Gaius.

Never mind, says Louisa. I'll make you a cocoa.

What about me? asks Terence. Where am I sleeping?

I thought you didn't sleep, says Louisa.

I don't, says Terence. But I need somewhere to do it.

How about in the tent with Gaius? asks Louisa.

Hum, says Gaius. I suppose...

He can sit up with us, says Saint Roley. We're having a vigil.

Where are you having it? asks Louisa.

Out the front, says Saint Roley. On the verandah.

Can he? asks Louisa.

All right, says Gaius. But no playing the trumpet.

Yippee! says Terence. I'm having a vigil outside.

The grown ups begin making their plans for tomorrow.

They will cycle towards Flinders Chase at the western end of the island, stopping off first at Kingscote, for supplies. On the way they will keep their eyes open for Glossy black cockatoos and Southern rufous scrub birds.

They drink green tea and cocoa, and finish the blueberries. 

Saint Roley asks for the container.

He wishes to keep all ten turnip pieces together.

Terence is given the job of putting them in the container.

The turnip pieces are excited. 

To be in a blueberry container at night on the verandah for a vigil!

What is a vigil? And will Holy Ronnie come too? 

Will he complete his poetic entreaty?

Will there be stars in the sky?

Not Our Lot To Die There

Saint Roley addresses the pieces of turnip.

Holy Ronnie is close at hand.

Bring him, say the pieces of turnip.

Shall I start? asks Terence.

Start what? says Saint Roley.

Playing the trumpet, says Terence.

Yes, says Saint Roley. Play something simple.

Okay, says Terence. Bzzz!

It's perhaps about bees.

Holy Ronnie is lifted from the kitchen paper, on which he was resting.

The turnip pieces regard him.

Remember our life together? says Holy Ronnie.

Remind us, say the pieces.

He may have forgotten, says Saint Roley.

Not at all, says Holy Ronnie. You underestimate my powers of recovery.

Saint Roley is miffed. He is the intermediary. Is there no need?

Blaah! Terence manages a sustained note.

Well done, Terence, says Louisa. If you like, I'll teach you Under the Sea.

Terence thinks he would like that.

Blueberries any one? asks Louisa.

Yes, please, says Gaius. 

Okay, says Arthur. I like fruit.

Holy Ronnie is recounting the things that the turnip and he did together.

At first we knew nothing of one another.

You were part of a turnip.

Did you know that? 

You were round, smooth and purple.

Like a fine bruise.

I was an old pencil at the end of my life,

Lying rotting in leaves.

We came together.

After Arthur picked you.

He said you jumped into his hand.

I was found by an emu wren

Who knew where to find me,

And given to Gaius

For the purpose of writing things down.

From then on, we were inseparable.

Terence made a hole in you, with a tent peg

He inserted me in.

On a bicycle we bounced in a backpack

Using momentum 

To avoid being stifled

By Gaius's underpants.

After a sea voyage,

We arrived on Kangaroo Island

And stopped at Louisa's

Which is where we are now.

We were both

O coincidence!

Placed in a roasting pan

And then rescued, for it was not our lot to die there

You first.

Then me.

(So I was in longer).

Therefore I entreat you....

This pencil is a bit of a motor mouth, thinks Saint Roley. 

But anyone can see that the pieces of turnip are rapt.

Holy Ronnie Of Poor Memory

The roasted vegetables are ready.

A delicious smell wafts through the kitchen.

Ready! says Louisa. Wash your hands and sit down.

Wash your hands. Arthur doesn't normally bother.

Nor does Gaius.

And no harm has come... well, not often.

They wash their hands, flap them dry and sit down at the table.

The pan of roasted vegetables is already on the table.

And three forks.

So you just spear what you want, and eat it.

Mm. The turnip chunks (the good ones) go first.

Then the garlic...the onion...the beetroot...the sweet potato...

Terence and Saint Roley squat in a corner, next to the chopping board, which is now on the floor.

Any luck? calls Louisa, from the table.

They need music, says Terence. Can I get the trumpet?

What makes you think they need music? asks Gaius.

They're humming, says Terence.

Is this true? Are the discarded-then-semi-roasted-then-saved turnip pieces humming?

If so what are they humming? And why do they need a trumpet?

Truth is, they are humming, but do not need a trumpet. Saint Roley knows it. But he thinks that blowing the trumpet is the best way to stop Terence from breathing all over his new congregation

Go on then, says Louisa. But don't blow it loudly.

I can't anyway, says Terence.

He goes to get the trumpet from where it was put down.

Saint Roley can now hear the turnip pieces humming.

hm hm hm ronnie
ronnie hm ho

So. They do remember Ronnie.

He speaks to them softly.

Shall I fetch Ronnie? He is much changed, as you are.

hm ronnie how?

He was semi-roasted like you were . He is oily and his memory is poor.

holy ronnie, hum the turnip pieces.

Did you hear that? says Saint Roley to Terence who has returned with the trumpet.

Holy Ronnie.

That's because he was in a hole, says Terence. And the hole was made of them joined together.

True. But Saint Roley has another interpretation.

Full Stomach Sees

Ronnie said WHERE IS, says Terence. Then he stopped talking.

The turnip, says Gaius. Where is the turnip?

In the oven, says Louisa.

I know that, says Gaius. I was suggesting it might be what Ronnie was asking.

Terence twiddles Ronnie between his thumb and first finger.

Is that what you were asking? asks Terence.

Ye..e..ss.. murmurs Ronnie.

Where are the parts of the turnip that Arthur cut off? asks Louisa.

Woe...says Ronnie.

Woe? says Terence. What does that mean?

Woe-woe-woe... repeats Ronnie. My friend was dissected.

Ronnie is slowly remembering what happened.

Where are they? asks Louisa.

Arthur checks the chopping board, where everything was until recently.

I must've tipped them into the cooking pan, with the good stuff, says Arthur.

Yuck, Arthur, says Louisa. I'll have to pick them all out.

Could you do it right now? asks Ronnie. 

I suppose so, says Louisa. I should stir them anyway.

She opens the oven again. Takes the pan out.

Come on, Arthur. Help me. You put them in.

Arthur picks out the dirty pieces of turnip with his fingers.

Hot! He drops them quickly onto the chopping board.

There are ten of them, curled up and small.

Put me down! cries Ronnie.

Terence places Ronnie on the chopping board next to the pieces of his friend.

Nothing about this looks promising.

Until.

There's a tap at Louisa's front door.

She opens it. It's Saint Roley, looking more contented than usual.

Where were you? asks Terence. Guess what? I've got a trumpet.

I could hear it, says Saint Roley. All the way down on the shore.

Were you eating molluscs? asks Louisa.

I was, says Saint Roley. And a full stomach sees things differently. I have returned to make myself useful.

Good, says Ronnie. Can you find any signs of life in these pieces of turnip?

For what reason? asks Saint Roley.

I made them a promise, says Ronnie. I mean the turnip. I made HIM a promise.

A promise. He made him a promise.

If there are signs of life, says Saint Roley, even the slightest, I will detect them.

Saved But Redundant

And how did Ronnie get in there?

Who'd want to eat a roast pencil?

No one.

Where's that pencil? asks Gaius. I may as well get on with my list while we wait for our dinner.

It was on the chopping board with the turnip, says Arthur.

Then I know where it is, says Louisa. It'll be in the roasting pan, with the veggies.

She opens the oven.

Hot air rushes out.

She grabs her tongs, and rescues the pencil.

Here you are, Gaius, says Louisa. Watch out, it's hot. And oily.

It probably won't write now, grumbles Gaius.

You can have one of mine, says Louisa.

So Ronnie is saved. But redundant.

Gaius gets on with his list.

Glossy black cockatoo.
Southern rufous scrub bird

That's terrible, says Louisa.

Yes it is, says Gaius. To be threatened with extinction.

I meant Terence's playing, says Louisa.

What? Hmm. Yes. Why did you give him a trumpet?

He said he's been practising.

He hasn't.

Come here, Terence, says Louisa.

Terence comes into the kitchen, with the trumpet.

Look what's happened to the pencil, says Louisa. Isn't that funny?

Terence drops the trumpet and picks up the ill-fated Ronnie.

We don't drop trumpets! says Louisa. We put them down.

Put me down, murmurs Ronnie.

Who cooked you? asks Terence.

Arthur, says Ronnie.

Just careless, says Arthur. Who'd want to eat a roast pencil?

(Exactly. We've asked that already).

Now look, says Terence. He's ruined. And I didn't do it.

Never mind, says Gaius. He's out now. No risk of any of us breaking a tooth on roast Ronnie.

Boo! says Terence. Who cares about your stupid teeth?

I do, says Gaius. Anyway, Louisa has given me a new pencil. Ronnie's all yours now.

Dear Ronnie, says Terence. You're all oily.

Where is .... begins Ronnie. Huuu-uh......

It's too hard. He can't finish

Perhaps he wants to know where his old friend the turnip's discarded bits are?

But then wouldn't he have asked in the plural.... where are?

The Knife Job

Come into the kitchen, says Louisa. You can all have a job.

What's my job? asks Terence.

Watching, says Louisa.

No, says Terence. I want a knife job.

Is he allowed a knife? asks Louisa.

What about a peeler? says Gaius.

We're not peeling, says Louisa. Tell you what, Terence, I'll go and find my trumpet. You can practise while we get the veggies ready for roasting.

Where's the turnip? asks Arthur, pulling out his knife.

Here, says Gaius. It may be tricky.

I can do tricky, says Arthur.

The turnip's time as a pencil holder is over.

The turnip knows that.

The turnip finds itself on a chopping board, with Ronnie the pencil, who has been withdrawn.

Goodbye! says Ronnie. Remember our life together.

How to do that? asks the turnip.

Some parts of you will be retained, says Ronnie. I heard Terence asking. I'm not certain what he was thinking.

Who ever is? says the turnip. See you on the other side. I'll be much changed. I may not even know you.

I'll know you, says Ronnie. However my own days are numbered.

Then what? asks the turnip.

No more me, says Ronnie.

What about no more me? says the turnip.

There won't be no more you, says Ronnie. There will be the retained bits.

Even they.... murmurs the turnip. Eventually....

What was he going to say? We don't know because....

Arthur slices him down the middle.

Cuts away the parts that touched Ronnie.

Chops the rest of the turnip into bite sized pieces.

Louisa and Gaius are meanwhile chopping sweet potatoes, potatoes, beetroots, onions, garlic and Brussels sprouts into bite sized pieces.

The pieces now lie in a pan.

Louisa drizzles the pieces with extra virgin olive oil and sprinkles them lightly with sea salt.

And places the pan in her oven.

Forty minutes, says Louisa.

It's hot in the oven.

The vegetables don't notice at first. Then they do!

Furfffffff! Sizzle!

Each vegetable is focused upon its own journey into oblivion.

Not one vegetable (not even the turnip) notices that Ronnie is in there as well.

In Two Minds

Louisa has her own place now.

With an oven.

She's planning on roasting the turnip.

She waits at the terminal with Terence, for Gaius and Arthur to disembark with their bikes.

How big is the turnip? asks Louisa.

Normal, says Terence. But the middle is ruined.

By Gaius's pencil, says Louisa. That shouldn't be a problem. I'll cut out the bits that were touched by the pencil.

Can we keep them? asks Terence.

The bits? asks Louisa. What for?

Ronnie, says Terence.

Okay, says Louisa. Who's Ronnie?

The pencil, says Terence.

Okay, says Louisa. You're a funny kid, you know that?

Bzzz, says Terence.

You remember! says Louisa. I gave you trumpet lessons. Have you practised?

Yes, says Terence. I practised just then.

That was lesson two, says Louisa.

Have you still got the trumpet? asks Terence.

Yes, says Louisa. You can try it when we get to my place.

Arthur and Gaius come across with their bikes.

Ready? says Louisa. I don't live far away. We can walk there. Can I see the turnip?

Gaius rummages about in his back pack. Pulls out the turnip, and Ronnie.

The turnip looks flaccid. Ronnie's point has been broken again.

(no doubt from all that momentum)

That's one sad turnip, says Louisa. I'll stop off at the shop and buy more.

It doesn't have to be only turnips, says Arthur.

Yes it does, says Terence.

We'll see what they've got, says Louisa.

They walk inland and stop at a small IGA.

Louisa goes in with Arthur.

Gaius and Terence wait outside.

This will be pricey, says Gaius. If they even have turnips.

No turnips today, says Louisa, coming out to the entrance. How do you feel about pumpkin?

Wonderful, says Gaius. I'll eat anything but tomatoes.

She goes back inside.

When Arthur and Louisa come out, she is carrying a large cotton shopping bag filled with vegetables suitable for roasting.

Arthur is carrying a bottle of extra virgin olive oil.

This looks promising.

They head to Louisa's.

Followed by a glum-looking Saint Roley, who doesn't eat vegetables, and is in two minds about deserting.

What's That Donut Doing?

After five minutes lying with his head on the donut, Saint Roley feels better.

He sits up. A small crowd has gathered.

It just walked in, says a woman. It followed that kid.

I'm the kid, says Terence. And the bird's called Saint Roley.

Mind if I take a photo? asks a man with a camera.

Can I be in it? asks Terence.

No, says Saint Roley.

Sounded like it said no, says the woman.

It DID say no, says a girl, who looks familiar.

It's not a parrot, says the woman.

It used to be, says Terence.

But not in actuality, says Gaius.

A café staff member comes over.

Sorry. That bird can't be in here. I'm going to try and shoo it out. Stand clear, people.

She flaps her arms at Saint Roley.

Saint Roley stands up with dignity.

Don't worry, I'm going.

He stalks back to the doorway, and hops onto the railing.

What's that donut doing? asks the staff member.

Being a pillow, says Terence. We turned it upside down so Saint Roley wouldn't get sticky.

I'll get some tongs, says the staff member. And a wet cloth.

What a debacle, says Gaius. I almost wish I'd paid extra for Saint Roley.

He's better outside, says Arthur.

Remember me? says the girl who looked familiar.

No, says Arthur.

Louisa, says Louisa. I played the trumpet in the school band when you arrived here four years ago.

You look older, says Arthur.

(She would).

You don't, says Louisa. Not pretending to be Jacques Cousteau again?

No, says Arthur. We're here to inspect the recovery.

Hello, Gaius, says Louisa. Hello, Terence. That was your bird, I bet.

He resigned, says Terence. Now we're equal.

That's nice, says Louisa. Well, I'm involved in the recovery effort. Perhaps I could show you some of the things that we're doing.

Wonderful, says Gaius. We've brought bikes, and this time I have a new pencil.

What about a sharpener? asks Louisa.

Arthur has a knife, says Gaius. We also have a jar of smoked oysters and a turnip. The pencil is stuck in the turnip at present, but we're planning on eating the turnip for supper.

Bring it all to my place, says Louisa. I'll cook.

The Kindness Of Strangers

It's coolish on the SPOKI.

Gaius and Arthur have found seats inside.

Terence looks out through a window.

Saint Roley is perched on a railing.

He's making a SIGNAL! says Terence.

Go and see what he wants, says Gaius.

Terence goes out, through a doorway.

I feel a bit peckish, says Gaius. Go and see what's available.

Arthur goes off to see what's available.

Comes back with donuts, chips, beer, and a raspberry cordial.

That would have cost a pretty penny, says Gaius.

Gratis, says Arthur. They recognised me.

As what? says Gaius. A former Tour de France cyclist?

As Jacques Cousteau, says Arthur. Remember when we came here four years ago?

I remember, but you were not Jacques Cousteau, says Gaius.

Not for long, says Arthur. Long enough to get Sweezus and me free tickets.

Yes I remember that now, says Gaius, picking up a donut. Sweezus was supposed to be David Suzuki. The whole town came out to greet you.

Including the mayor, says Arthur. Anyway, the cafe staff remembered.

Lucky for us, says Gaius. Everything is overpriced here. I've just paid two hundred and forty dollars for ourselves and two bicycles.

You should have told them you were David Suzuki, says Arthur.

I don't have your cheek, says Gaius. I did pretend Terence was younger than he is, though.

They look through the window, at the mention of Terence.

Terence has climbed the railing to speak to Saint Roley.

Tch! says Gaius. Try and catch his eye!

Arthur bangs on the window.

Terence turns.

Arthur holds up the glass of red cordial.

Terence beams. And climbs down from the railing.

He comes back inside.

Yay! says Terence, slurping his red drink through a straw. Proper slurping. Up and down, in and out, making bubbles.

Saint Roley has followed him in through the doorway.

Look! An oystercatcher! shouts someone.

Saint Roley had hoped to walk in unnoticed. He is not feeling well. He had asked Terence to help him.

And Terence was going to.

You don't look well, Saint Roley, says Gaius, getting up and walking towards him

I think I ate a dodgy mollusc, says Saint Roley. I just need to rest here inside.

Certainly, says Gaius. You do realise I haven't paid for you? We shall pretend you're relying on the kindness of strangers.

Fine by me, says Saint Roley. Mind if I lie down on your seating? Wait. Is that a donut?

That's your pillow, says Terence. Put your head down on the donut.

Could you turn it over first? asks Saint Roley.

Ahrh! says Gaius. What about the icing!

Too late. One can't always prevent ferry seats getting sticky.

The Bird Belongs To No One

Quarter to four. The ferry departs for Kangaroo Island in fifteen minutes.

Arthur and Gaius coast down to the terminal.

Fifteen minutes to spare, says Gaius. I'll buy the tickets, you wait here with Terence and the bikes.

Gaius goes off to buy tickets.

How much for two adults and two bikes?

How old's your child? asks the ticket woman. I know you have one. I can see him, chasing after a bird.

His age is irrelevant, says Gaius.

No it isn't, says the ticket woman. And is it your bird? The bird will be extra.

The child is an infant, says Gaius And the bird belongs to no one.

All right, says the ticket woman. I'll take your word for it. That will be two hundred and forty dollars.

That seems excessive, says Gaius.

Are you a senior? asks the ticket woman.

No! says Gaius.

And the other adult, is he a student?

No, says Gaius. A poet.

How unusual, says the ticket woman. We had a philosopher on the three o'clock. What a special day this is.

It wasn't Kierkegaard, by any chance? says Gaius.

Yes, do you know him? asks the ticket woman.

He's a  colleague, says Gaius.

So you're a philosopher too? asks the ticket woman.

No, says Gaius. A natural historian. 

That's nice, says the ticket woman, who does not seem to think that a natural historian is as special as a philosopher, or a poet. Here are your tickets.

Thank you, says Gaius. By the way, did Kierkegaard say where on KI he was going?

No, says the ticket woman. Why are you asking?

I'm supposed to avoid him, says Gaius.

It's a big island, says the ticket woman.

Indeed, says Gaius.

He returns to where Terence, minutes earlier, was pursuing a bird.

The bird was Saint Roley, who has decided to use the last ten minutes before departure to search for molluscs.

He pecks in the sand, amongst dead seaweed and unattractive boulders.

Discoloured sea water washes up.....washes back again. Shee....shurrrr.

It's a ferry terminal.

The molluscs here may well taste quite nasty.

A Break In Space Time

Saint Roley flies overhead, one eye on the ocean.

Arthur and Gaius pass through Normanville, Wirrina Cove, Second Valley.

Terence is in Arthur's back pack with the jar of smoked oysters.

His head's sticking out. He can see Gaius's back pack from there.

The top is half open

Sometimes Ronnie appears and sinks down again.

Sometimes the turnip.

What's going on?

Saint Roley might know.

Terence signals Saint Roley, who does a slow bird dive.

What? asks Saint Roley.

See them? says Terence. Why are they doing it?

Saint Roley hadn't noticed anything.

Now he does.

Ask them, says Terence.

Who shall I ask first? asks Saint Roley.

The turnip, says Terence. It talks more.

This may have been true once, now it isn't.

Let's go back in time, forty five minutes.

Deep in Gaius's back pack:

Ronnie: Why is it so stuffy?

Turnip: Underpants.

Ronnie: O!

Turnip: He changed them.

Ronnie: So these are the used ones!

Turnip: We need air. We must use some momentum.

Ronnie: I'm a pencil. I don't have momentum.

Turnip: Nor do I. But the back pack has momentum.

Ronnie: Yes it does!

Turnip: We'll work together and use the momentum.

Ronnie: Right. Go!

It takes forty five minutes to perfect the bouncing rotations.

Forty five minutes later, (or now):

Saint Roley flies down to ask his question.

The turnip explains the dilemma and its solution.

Which we know already.

(due to the break in the space-time continuum)

Saint Roley understands momentum.

Terence doesn't. But the motivation....he gets.

Third Way Leads To Fourth Way

Who's Ronnie? (thinks the turnip, again)

Then he remembers. A pencil.

He'll be a safe place for a pencil!

Is this a Third Way, promising longevity?

So much for supper, says Saint Roley.

What do you care? asks Terence.

I don't, says Saint Roley. I'm just saying. Gaius won't eat the turnip now.

Terence takes the turnip to Gaius.

Look, a safe place for Ronnie!

Gaius looks into the hole in the top of the turnip.

Specks of dirt are inside.

Terence is still holding the tent peg.

No doubt you meant well, says Gaius, and it will be a safe place for the pencil, but this turnip is earmarked for supper.

You won't eat it now! says Terence.

No, at supper time, says Gaius. When we shall all be on Kangaroo Island. The dirt won't present a problem.

What's Terence done? asks Arthur, having packed up the tent.

Made a safe place for the pencil, says Gaius. As you see, I'm about to try it.

Arthur inspects the hole in the turnip.

I thought we were having it for supper? says Arthur.

We are, says Gaius. It's fortunate you brought a knife. When we're ready to roast it, you can prepare it by cutting out the centre.

The turnip shivers, but does not complain.

The Third Way must lead to a Fourth Way, thinks the turnip.

Gaius inserts Ronnie into the turnip, pointy end out.

Woohoo! says Terence. It's a weapon.

He brandishes it. It's a bit like a rapier.

Pack it away in my back pack, says Gaius. Arthur, what time's the last ferry?

Seven, says Arthur. But Cape Jervis is only 70 k from here, we could make the 4 o'clock one.

Excellent, says Gaius. I could do with the exercise. I've sat for too long in the bird hide.

And so they go. Stopping only to pick up some olive oil for roasting the turnip.

I'm joking.

They do not do that.

What Might Be A Third Way?

First things first, says Gaius, when they get back to the bird hide.

First things being? says Arthur.

The pencil, says Gaius. As you see, the lead's broken. I hope it's not in short pieces, all the way through.

It's a pretty dud pencil, says Arthur.

Not so dud, says Ronnie.

He was lost, says Terence. In the bushes. My old parrot found him,

Give it here, says Arthur.

He takes out his knife.

Terence watches in horror as Arthur skins Ronnie.

Now Ronnie is shorter, but pointy.

He also has curls.

Take them off! says Terence.

Leave them, says Ronnie.

They'll drop off by themselves, says Arthur. Now what?

The undershorts, says Gaius. And the hammer.

These are transferred.

Now if you'll pack up the tent, we'll get going, says Gaius. Terence can help you.

What will you do? asks Arthur.

Change into these, says Gaius.

Arthur dismantles the tent.

Terence helps him, by pulling out a tent peg.

Swurp! The tent peg comes out. Can I have this? asks Terence.

Sure, says Arthur. But don't lose it.

The turnip turns to Saint Roley, who is next to him, watching.

It's sharp, that tent peg. Next I'll be getting a face!

No you won't, says Saint Roley. I'll protect you.

Until supper, says the turnip.

What would you rather? asks Saint Roley. Having a face, or being Gaius's supper?

Neither, says the turnip.

What then? asks Saint Roley. A Third Way?

The turnip had not thought about a Third Way until Saint Roley said it.

What might be a Third Way?

Terence approaches with the tent peg.

Halt! says Saint Roley.

I don't have to, says Terence. Why?

The turnip has a suggestion, says Saint Roley. It doesn't want a face and it doesn't want to be supper.

What does it want? asks Terence. Wait a minute! I know!

The idea has come to him suddenly.

He drives the tent peg into the top of the turnip.

Yeeouchee!

He pulls it out again.

You've ruined it, says Saint Roley.

No, I haven't, says Terence. I've made a safe home for Ronnie.

The turnip's first thought is: Who's Ronnie?

White And Bruise Purple

Arthur speeds up, until he is level with Gaius.

Arthur! Perfect timing! says Gaius.

Arthur gets off his bike.

Run out of underpants?

Ha ha! No, says Gaius. Well, yes. I hope you've brought some.

In the back pack with the hammer, says Arthur. And the turnip.

Turnip, what turnip? asks Gaius. Not one of mine surely?

It was loose, says Arthur. It practically jumped into my hand.

Let me see it, says Gaius. It might make a tasty supper.

Arthur opens his back pack. Pulls out the jar of smoked oysters

Those are mine, says Saint Roley, but you're welcome to share them.

No, no, says Gaius. You'll be hungry after your journey.

I meant you and Arthur, says Saint Roley. I'm hanging out for fresh molluscs. When do we leave?

Soon, says Gaius.

Arthur pulls out the turnip.

Gaius inspects it. White and bruise-purple, smooth skin.

What a beauty! says Gaius. Well done, Arthur.

Let's see! says Terence.

He grabs at the turnip.

Watch it! says the turnip.

You need a face, says Terence. I'll get Ronnie.

No face! says Gaius. We're eating that turnip! And Ronnie's lead is broken. I couldn't find the pencil sharpener.

I've got a knife, says Arthur.

(A knife!).

Good man, says Gaius. Shall we stroll back to the tent? Vello left it for us. We'll take it to Kangaroo Island.

I saw Vello, says Arthur. He gave me his water bottle.

Whatever for? asks Gaius.

I'd used all my water, says Arthur. I ate a cheese and spinach pasty, and threw up several kilometres later.

Those things are too heavy, says Gaius. You should have chosen something lighter.

You know me, says Arthur.

I do, says Gaius I suppose you enjoyed the whole thing. Got a mad poem out of it. All about vomiting.

Arthur shrugs. He could have. But he didn't.

They stroll back to the tent, and the bird hide.

Gaius describing the comical nose pencil sharpener.

Arthur listening, and wheeling his bike

Saint Roley flying, and dreaming of creamy grey shellfish.

Terence looking for a sharp stick.

The turnip, hoping Terence won't find one.

The Potato Box Paradox

Good to see you, Saint Roley, says Gaius.

Good to see you, says Saint Roley. And good to see Terence again. He hasn't changed.

I did change, says Terence. But I changed back, because the bottoms kept unrolling.

He's referring to a pair of unicorn pyjamas, says Gaius.

I see, says Saint Roley. Perhaps they'd fit me?

Parrots can't wear unicorn pyjamas, says Terence.

I resigned as a parrot, says Saint Roley. Don't you remember?

You came back, says Terence.

Not as a parrot, says Saint Roley. As an acquaintance.

I KNEW it, says Terence.

On an equal footing, continues Saint Roley.

Excellent, says Gaius. It will do Terence good to adjust to a new relationship.

It won't, says Terence. Now he doesn't believe what I say.

When did I not believe what you said? asks Saint Roley.

About your stupid brother, not drowning, says Terence.

I explained about the Pointing Finger, says Saint Roley.

What's this? says Gaius, staring down the road, hoping to see a distant figure.

Terence forgets that I was in the potato box, along with my brother, says Saint Roley.

What? says Gaius. In a potato box?

You remember? says Saint Roley. We were young, our legs were spindly. We travelled in it.

Oh yes, in Saint Malo, says Gaius. You somehow ended up in the ocean.

The box became soggy, says Saint Roley. It disintegrated. My brother found himself on the side with the Pointing Finger.

This Way Up, says Gaius.

This Way Up, says Saint Roley. But it wasn't pointing up. It was pointing towards the horizon.

Up means up, says Terence. Think about that for a minute.

My brother took it as a sign, says Saint Roley. Stay on board. The Pointing Finger will guide you.

Whereas you... says Gaius.

My section of potato box was blank. It caught a wave, and floated towards the rocks where I was rescued by Arthur, says Saint Roley. The rest is history.

But what happened when he got to the horizon? asks Terence.

It's the horizon, says Saint Roley. You don't ever get there.

Terence thinks about that for a minute.

Arthur appears, (on the horizon).

At last! It's Arthur, cries Gaius.

Faith In The Pointing Finger

It's just Gaius, Terence and Ronnie in the bird hide.

Angelina and Kierkegaard have left for Cape Jervis, by car.

Can I wait by the road for Arthur? asks Terence.

All right, says Gaius. Leave Ronnie with me. I want to make notes.

Terence hands Ronnie to Gaius, and fights his way out of the bird hide.

Crash, crash.

Gaius starts writing.

No. birds spotted in Stipiturus Cons. Pk.

Drat. No. birds. That looks ambiguous.

He inserts a small of.

That's better. No. of birds.

Under that, a list of birds spotted.

Southern emu wrens - 2

Yellow-rumped thornbills- 2

Southern boobook- 1 (heard at night)

White-plumed honey eater - 1

Red-rumped parrot - 1

Superb fairywren - 2

Latham's snipe -1

Of course, there may have been others. If he'd had Ronnie sooner....

He turns a page in his notebook and begins a new list

Birds to look for on Kangaroo Island.

Glossy....snap. Ronnie's lead breaks.

Curses. Where is that sharpener? Did she take it?

Meanwhile Terence has fought his way to the road.

Waiting, looking, down the the road, into the distance.....

Saint Roley drops down, and lands before him.

Guess what? says Terence.

You haven't changed, says Saint Roley.

Wrong, says Terence. This is more important.

You've lost someone? says Saint Roley. I can comfort....

YOU have, says Terence. But you actually haven't.

Go on, says Saint Roley.

Your brother is still alive! says Terence. Remember he floated away on a cardboard?

Yes, says Saint Roley. Years ago. He drowned. I long ago reached closure.

Like a door? asks Terence.

If you like, says Saint Roley. But one thing I do know, he's no longer a sentient being.

That's what you think, says Terence. But he had wings. Think about that for a minute.

There's something you're not factoring in, says Saint Roley.

What? asks Terence.

His faith in the Pointing Finger, says Saint Roley.

Ah! Here you are! says Gaius, who has walked to the road to meet Arthur. Where is Arthur?

Not far behind me, says Saint Roley. Hello, Gaius. It's good to be here.

Talk To The Underpants

Keep the water bottle, says Vello.

Thanks, says Arthur.

I'll be going, says Vello.

Without water? asks Saint Roley.

I'll pick some up somewhere, says Vello.

Take my smoked oysters, says Saint Roley.

No thanks, says Vello. See you later. Have a good time on KI.

Thanks, says Arthur. How about the turnip?

I'm surprised at you, says Vello. That's Gaius's turnip. And it knows Latin.

Nemo, says the turnip.

It seems he's forgotten the rest.

Vello cycles away, in the direction of Adelaide.

Arthur picks up his bike. Looks across at Saint Roley.

Going in the back pack?

I'll fly above you, says Saint Roley. I've fallen out with the turnip.

Nemo me, says the turnip.

Ha ha, laughs Saint Roley. Talk to the underpants.

He rises above Arthur.

From there he can see that they are far from the ocean.

The beautiful beckoning ocean.

And beside it, and under it will be juicy fresh molluscs.

He could head straight for the ocean.

But he doesn't. He has commitments.

Arthur speeds up.

The turnip sinks into the underpants.

And tries to remember the rest of the Latin.

Don't Attack Me

Arthur's mouth is dry.

But he can't help asking the question.

How come you know so much about pasties?

I'm a turnip, the turnip replies.

You grew in the dirt, says Arthur. You started off there, and stayed there until I pulled you out.

What are you implying? asks the turnip.

If I grew up that way, says Arthur, I'd know nothing about pasties.

How did you grow up? asks the turnip?

Went to school. Got smacked about a bit. Learned my Latin, says Arthur.

Woah? Latin? says the turnip. Tell me a phrase.

Nemo me impune lacessit, says Arthur.

I like it, says the turnip. What does it mean?

No one attacks me with impunity, says Arthur.

You should have that as your motto, says the turnip.

If you have a knife, you don't need a motto, says Arthur.

If I'd had a knife, says the turnip, I'd still be in the pot with my fellow turnips.

And I'd have a slashed hand, says Arthur.

Yes, says the turnip. We are of like minds.

Arthur isn't sure he wants to be of like mind with a turnip.

Vello appears in the distance, with Saint Roley.

He cycles up to Arthur and stops.

I hear you need water, says Vello. Here, have some of mine.

He hands Arthur his aluminium water bottle.

Arthur sucks at the top.

Curses! says Vello. Now it's contaminated. I should have tipped some out into your bottle.

I'm not infected, says Arthur.

How do you know? asks Vello. You vomited. I see it on the grass. Looks like you slipped in it too. Are you dizzy?

I'm okay, says Arthur. It was the pasty.

Are you sure? asks Vello. I wouldn't want to spread germs in the office.

Ask the turnip, says Arthur.

As if one could ask a turnip, says Vello.

One could, says Saint Roley, but it only provides second hand information.

Meaning? asks Vello.

I'm the one who knew about the effects of eating a cheese and spinach pasty, says Saint Roley.

I beg to differ, says the turnip. I knew about them before I emerged from the pot.

No way, says Saint Roley.

And I also know Latin, says the turnip. Don't attack me.

Arthur, who is still drinking Vello's water, does not intervene.

Bad Luck Also Karma

Arthur leans his bike against a tree.

Sits down beside it.

Saint Roley has flown off to find water.

What will he put it in? wonders the turnip.

Arthur wonders the same.

He should have given Saint Roley the empty water bottle.

And he would have, had he not felt so green.

a violent green
churning
burning
rising

urgg 

ulps!

After that Arthur feels better.

Saint Roley returns.

He has forgotten the bottle.

I see you have thrown up the pasty, says Saint Roley. Feeling better?

Yes, says Arthur. But I could use the water.

I'm on it, says Saint Roley, gripping the open top of the water bottle and flying away.

He has not been flying long when he meets Vello, cycling towards him.

My star performer! says Vello.

What? says Saint Roley. Oh it's you. Hello.

Where's Arthur? asks Vello. 

Leaning against a tree, says Saint Roley. Got any water?

Yes I do, says Vello. Has Arthur dried up? That seems unlikely.

This isn't a comedy, says Saint Roley. He ate a cheese and spinach pasty, and threw up.

Eh bien! Allons y! cries Vello.

Saint Roley performs a U turn.

......

Arthur stands.

Watch out! warns the turnip.

Too late. Arthur has slid in his own vomit.

Bad luck, says the turnip. But also, karma.

Arthur wipes his shoe on the grass.

See the yellow, says the turnip. That's not the cheese that's the spinach.

Arthur bends down to look.

It seems that the turnip is right.

Arthur has a new respect for the turnip.

Kindness Rubs Off

Saint Roley addresses the turnip.

Saint Roley: Mind if I join you?

Turnip: Mfffff...

Saint Roley: Arthur tells me you pleaded to be pulled from the ground.

Turnip: Fmmmm....

Saint Roley: You can talk to me. I'm empathetic.

Turnip: It was a pot.

Saint Roley: Ground, pot, what's the difference?

Turnip: Fuzzy creatures.

Saint Roley: Ah, do you like fuzzy creatures?

Turnip: Not at all. They nibble my tops.

Saint Roley: They have to eat something.

Turnip: It's easy to be empathetic when you have wings.

Saint Roley: Good point. So you pleaded.

Turnip: No. I never pleaded.

Saint Roley: Arthur must have misunderstood. He did say it was more like a feeling.

Turnip: Yes, he felt me. He poked his fingers down past my sides.

Saint Roley: Assessing your girth, perhaps.

Turnip: Whatever. Then suddenly there I was, uprooted.

Saint Roley: I know how that feels.

Turnip: You couldn't.

Saint Roley: I could. I was hatched in Saint Malo.

Turnip: And where is that?

Saint Roley: Far from here. France.

Turnip: We're going very slowly.

Saint Roley: Arthur bought one of those cheese and spinach pasties from the pie shop.

Turnip: I know them. No wonder he's flagging.

Saint Roley: Thick greasy pastry. Slimy cheese. Salt. Yellow spinach.

Turnip: Why is it yellow?

Saint Roley: Don't know. For some reason it tends to go yellow.

Turnip: Perhaps the effect of the cheese.

Arthur stops.

His stomach feels like the inside of a cement mixer.

Saint Roley (poking his head out): Are you feeling all right?

Arthur: No. I'm stopping. Got cramps.

Saint Roley: From eating that pasty. Take your time. Would you like a water?

Arthur: I've used all the water.

Saint Roley: Don't worry. I'll find some.

Turnip: You're so kind.

Saint Roley: Would you like to come with me?

Turnip: No I'll wait here with Arthur. In case he needs anything.

Saint Roley: That's nice of you.

It is nice of him.

And he's never been a nice turnip.

Kindness rubs off, (we may suppose).

Could Be The Wind

Arthur has been cycling for an hour.

Which means he's about half way there.

How about a comfort stop? asks Saint Roley.

Arthur doesn't hear him. The words are carried away.

This is because Saint Roley is perched on the handlebars, where the wind is whistling.

Luckily for him though, Arthur is stopping.

Mclaren Vale, outside the Prizewinning Pie Shop.

Come in with me, says Arthur.

I'm uncomfortable in a pie shop, says Saint Roley.

Please yourself, says Arthur.

Arthur enters the pie shop.

Saint Roley surveys the bicycle. To do this he must turn round.

He might be more comfortable on the back mudguard.

But would Arthur notice, if he fell off?

Let us examine Saint Roley, while he thinks about changing his position.

Outwardly, he is much the same. Orange beak, orange feet, black and white feathers.

His eyes look watery, which could be the wind.

But here comes Arthur, with a cheese and spinach pasty.

Want a bite? asks Arthur.

No thanks, says Saint Roley. Can I ride on your back wheel?

No, says Arthur. You can go the rest of the way in my back pack. Just don't nibble the turnip.

I wouldn't says Saint Roley. Not after what you said to Belle.

What did I say? asks Arthur.

It pleaded, says Saint Roley.

Yes I did say that, says Arthur.

What did it plead exactly? asks Saint Roley.

It was more of a feeling, says Arthur.

(In fact the turnip had not pleaded).

I'll talk to it, says Saint Roley. It may have a tragic story.

Okay, says Arthur. Get in.

Before I do, where are Gaius's underpants? asks Saint Roley.

At the bottom, says Arthur. The turnip's at the top.

Just checking, says Saint Roley.

He climbs into Arthur's back pack, to talk to the turnip.

Arthur sets off.

Think About That For A Minute

Terence remembers the problems he had with Saint Roley.

1. He only ate molluscs.

2. He was sad.

3: He had resigned from his job as a parrot.

On the other hand

1. He was grateful to Terence.

2. No he wasn't.

3. He was just being nice, saying that.

So Terence walks around outside the bird hide kicking the low vegetation.

What's the matter? asks Kierkegaard.

You look glum, says Angelina.

How? asks Terence.

Your body language, says Angelina. Aren't you happy to be going?

My old parrot is coming, says Terence. Saint Roley.

A beautiful name, says Angelina. What kind of parrot is it?

A parrot, says Terence.

Gaius sticks his head out of the bird hide.

An oystercatcher, says Gaius. We met him some years ago in Saint Malo.

Why didn't you call him Saint Malo? asks Angelina.

His brother's name was Saint Malo, says Gaius. Tragic story. Saint Malo floated away on the flap of an old potato box, and was never seen again.

He drowned, says Terence.

But wasn't he an oystercatcher? asks Angelina. Oystercatchers don't drown if their cardboard simply takes a wrong turning. Think about that for a minute.

Terence thinks about that for a minute.

.......

Meanwhile Arthur is ready to start cycling to Mount Compass.

Got everything? asks Belle.

Hammer underpants knife turnip, says Arthur.

And me, says Saint Roley.

Any food for Saint Roley? asks Belle. Remember he only eats molluscs.

I'll stop off somewhere, says Arthur.

I suppose I could always eat the turnip, says Saint Roley.

Better not, says Arthur.

Wait, says Belle. I'll just run back inside and see if Gaius has any molluscs in his pantry.

She runs back inside and returns with a jar of smoked oysters.

This is all I could find.

Saint Roley looks pained at the idea of smoked oysters.

What a travesty.

I don't think Gaius meant you to BRING him a turnip, says Belle, seeing Saint Roley eyeing the turnip.

I wasn't going to, says Arthur. Until it pleaded.

You idiot, Arthur, says Belle.

It Only Half Pleases

Gaius calls Arthur again.

Arthur, says Gaius. When are you coming?

I'm on my way, says Arthur.

Excellent. says Gaius. Is it too late to ask you to stop by my house and pick up a few things?

No, says Arthur. I'm at your house now.

Good, says Gaius. Clean undershorts, and a geology hammer.

Okay, says Arthur.

And could you go round the back and check on my turnips? asks Gaius.

How do you check on turnips? asks Arthur.

Bend down and part the leafage, says Gaius. Knock off any caterpillars. The turnips should be plump and a fine shade of purple.

Sure, says Arthur. I'll see you later. Wait, Belle wants to know if Terence is there?

Of course he is, says Gaius. He is being more helpful than usual. Even found me a pencil. It was blunt, but Kierkegaard's lady friend provided a pencil sharpener. Three in fact. Very humorous. One was...

That's good, says Arthur. Belle wants to know if Terence is going with you?

Is there a choice? asks Gaius.

No, says Arthur. Belle wants to know if Terence has a new parrot.

Can't she ask me herself? asks Gaius.

Okay, says Arthur. Here she is now.

Hello Gaius, says Belle. I suppose you're wondering why we're at your house.

No, says Gaius. I'm wondering why you want to know if Terence has a new parrot.

Because, says Belle, an old parrot of his has turned up.

Wonderful, says Gaius. Which one? Surely not Saint Roley?

Yes, Saint Roley, says Belle. That's why we're at your house. Saint Roley wanted to catch up with Ageless.

And did he? asks Gaius.

No, Ageless isn't here, says Belle. But Saint Roley would like to see Terence.

Then he must come to Mount Compass with Arthur, says Gaius. And then on to Kangaroo Island. Terence will be delighted.

Great, says Belle. Anything else you'd like Arthur to bring?

No, says Gaius. Or yes, maybe a knife.

He always has a knife, says Belle. Well, enjoy yourself, Gaius. Has papa left yet?

He's about to, says Gaius.

Oops. I'd better warn Sweezie, says Belle. Bye now.

Terence! says Gaius. Come here!

What? says Terence.

With which of your parrots would you most like to be reunited? asks Gaius.

My balloon parrot, says Terence. No, Celia.

What about Saint Roley? asks Gaius.

I LOVE Saint Roley, says Terence. But he went away.

Arthur will be bringing him, says Gaius. Does that please you?

It half does, says Terence.

Only half? says Gaius. Why is that?

But Terence won't say.

That Would Surprise Me

Angelina and Kierkegaard are standing outside the bird hide.

My car or yours? says Angelina.

I don't have one, says Kierkegaard. I came here on my bike.

That solves that, says Angelina. We'll go over by Sealink. They go daily.

I wonder if Gaius and Arthur are going by Sealink, says Kierkegaard.

Angelina wonders that too.

Inside the bird hide, Vello berates Gaius.

How would you like it, asks Vello, if you had planned a holiday on Kangaroo Island with a new woman, and I decided to tag along, with Arthur?

I should be pleased, says Gaius. Arthur is the most reliable young man I know.

But what about the woman? says Vello.

Depends, says Gaius. I imagine she'd get on well with Arthur. Most ladies like poets.

Say she wanted to spend all her time with you, says Vello.

That would surprise me, says Gaius.

If you must go, says Vello, I suggest you stay on a different part of the island.

Different? says Gaius.

From them, says Vello, indicating the exit.

Arthur and I shall visit the burnt parts, says Gaius. I shall make notes on the recovery.

And what will Arthur do? asks Vello.

What he always does, says Gaius. Slope off. Eat. Write poems. But when it comes to the pinch, should I need a pencil, he will find me a pencil.

A worthy talent, says Vello.

Or a knife, says Gaius. Should I need one.

Vello lets that go.

Terence is also outside the bird hide.

He is playing with Ronnie.

The emu-wren (his parrot) flies down.

I see you've sharpened the pencil, says the emu-wren.

Guess what? says Terence. We're all going to Kangaroo Island.

Not me, says the emu-wren. I'm staying right here. It's nearly the breeding season.

Who cares? says Terence.

We do, says the emu-wren.

Ronnie can say O, says Terence.

I have cousins on Kangaroo Island, says the emu-wren.

When he says it, you have to put your ear next to where it comes from, says Terence.

You're obviously not even listening, says the emu-wren.

I am or how would I hear it? says Terence.

The emu-wren (now his ex-parrot) gives up on the idea of messaging his KI cousins.

He flies off.

A Quiet Pencil O

Angelina gives Kierkegaard the nose.

Where's the pencil? asks Kierkegaard.

I gave it to Terence, says Gaius.

Yes, Terence has Ronnie, the pencil.

Terence inserts Ronnie into the back end of the dog pencil sharpener.

Hey! says Angelina. That's not for you.

I'm just testing, says Terence. Seeing if Ronnie fits into the hole.

Ronnie does, and now the dog pencil sharpener looks funny.

Terence holds it up so the grownups can see.

Look. The pencil looks like it's sticking out of ......

We know, says Angelina. That's the idea.

Ronnie remains silent

But he has his own opinion.

Can I just sharpen him a LITTLE? asks Terence.

I don't mind if we don't use the nose, says Kierkegaard.

Terence takes this as a yes. He twists Ronnie.

O, says Ronnie.

A quiet pencil O, heard by no one but Terence.

It said O, says Terence.

No it didn't, says Vello. Keep turning.

O, O,  says Ronnie.

Terence pulls Ronnie out of the dog's pretend anus.

Where's your voice coming from? asks Terence.

O says Ronnie.

Say it again, says Terence.

O, says Ronnie.

This time Terence detects where the Os come from.

They come from the O, in Ronnie.

The grown ups are unconcerned with this development.

They are discussing some sort of arrangement.

Angelina is thinking of going to Kangaroo Island for the rest of the fortnight. Would Kierkegaaard like to go too?

Kierkegaard would like to, but he feels obligated to Gaius.

No no, you go, says Gaius. Vello is here . He can help me.

No I can't, says Vello. I have to get back to the office. But why not ask Arthur?

Wonderful idea, says Gaius. Where's my phone?

Here, says Kierkegaard.

Gaius calls Arthur. Explains the situation.

Sure, says Arthur. I've been wanting to go back to Kangaroo Island, ever since it got burnt.

Not us, says Gaius. Kierky and his new lady friend are going. I need you here.

Where's here? asks Arthur.

Mount Compass, says Gaius.

Sorry, says Arthur.

I suppose we could go to KI, says Gaius. If your heart's set on it. 

O, says Kierkegaard, softly.

A Thoughtful Man

Kierkegaard regards the three pencil sharpeners.

Which one should he choose?

The dog one is rude. The nose one, disgusting.

The pirate with the missing leg is the least offensive.

Or is it?

Perhaps he is wrong. It's natural for a dog to have an anus.

And for a nose to have entry points....... although, not for pencils.

But the pirate is disabled. One should not make fun ....

The atmosphere is suspenseful.

Vello would like to be helpful, but no, Angelina wouldn't like it.

To Gaius it's obvious the nose pencil sharpener is the most amusing.

Why doesn't Kierkegaard pick that one?

He laughs inwardly. Ha ha. Pick that one.

Terence can't wait any longer.

Don't pick the dog with the bumhole!

I wasn't going to, says Kierkegaard.

Can I believe that? asks Angelina.

Perhaps not, says Kierkegaard. It was a spontaneous reaction to Terence's outburst.

You are taking too long to decide, says Angelina. Which tells me something about you.

That I overthink things, says Kierkegaard. I know.

Perhaps it's a good trait for a philosopher, says Angelina.

Not necessarily, says Vello. I don't overthink things.

You are older, says Angelina. Sören is still a young man.

Kierkegaard is pleased that she thinks so. He is forty two after all.

Nothing to do with it, says Vello. I was always impetuous. I've been chased all over France in my day.

And over the border, says Gaius.

Stop TALKING! says Terence. Can I have the dog one? HE doesn't want it.

Not necessarily, says Kierkegaard. Wait. I'm reaching a decision.

Yes? says Angelina.

The NOSE! says Kierkegaard.

Good choice, says Angelina. A thoughtful man's choice.

Kierkegaard congratulates himself for not choosing the disabled pirate.

Gaius nods in agreement. The nose was his choice as well.

The Best Hole

It keeps disappearing, says Terence.

What does? asks Gaius.

My parrot, says Terence.

There are plenty of parrots, says Gaius. They come and go.

MY one, says Terence.

His emu-wren, says Kierkegaard. It does keep disappearing.

Birds don't disappear, says Vello. You lose sight of them.

I've lost sight of my parrot, says Terence.

Stay in the bird hide, says Gaius. And keep your eyes open.

They're always open, says Terence. This is boring. Can I have Ronnie?

I suppose so, says Gaius. But don't lose him. Kierkegaard's lady friend is bringing a pencil sharpener.

Three pencil sharpeners, says Terence. I know.

Kierkegaard looks anxious.

No need to be anxious, says Vello. She wanted to come.

But she's planning to test me, says Kierkegaard.

All teachers do that, says Vello. At least she's being open about it.

Three sharpeners, says Kierkegaard.

Novelty ones, says Gaius.

Sweezus had a novelty pen, says Vello. A frog one with boxing gloves. In the end I had to get Belle to hide it. It was distracting everyone in the office.

I remember, says Gaius. And what about that crucifix pen someone gave him?

Ditto, says Vello.

These anecdotes cheer Kierkegaard up a little.

She's HERE! cries Terence.

Angelina appears at the back of the bird hide.

It's not a great bird hide, says Angelina. I could see you.

On the other hand, says Vello. It has allowed you to find us.

True, says Angelina, but I had detailed instructions.

Where are the sharpeners? asks Terence. Can I see? Can Ronnie choose one?

Who is Ronnie? asks Angelina, looking at Vello.

Not me, says Vello. I'm François. But you can call me Vello.

And I'm Gaius, says Gaius. Call me Gaius.

I believe I'm on your contact list, says Angelina.

Through no action of mine I assure you, says Gaius. I assume I am also on yours.

Yes, says Angelina. Time will tell if you remain there.

How will it tell? asks Terence.

So who is Ronnie? asks Angelina, ignoring Terence's legitimate question, because it's the school holidays.

This is him, says Terence, thrusting forward the pencil.

He can't choose his own sharpener, says Angelina.

He can choose the best hole, says Terence.

This is prescient.

Angelina opens her floppy cotton shoulder bag and rummages.

She brings out three pencil sharpeners.

Kierkegaard steps forward. This is the test.

Number one pencil sharpener is in the shape of a one-legged pirate. The pencil fits in the hole for his missing peg leg.

Number two pencil is in the shape of a dog, with the hole for the pencil at the back end of the dog, representing its anus.

Number three pencil sharpener is shaped like a large nose. The pencil goes into a nostril.

Which one do you like best, Sören? asks Angelina.

Pffff!

Kierkegaard needs to think fast.

The One You Choose

Just do it, says Vello.

Yes, I'll just do it, thinks Kierkegaard.

He calls Angelina (aka Mrs Bennett).

Hello, says Angelina.

It's me, the man who.... begins Kierkegaard.

I know, says Angelina. I added you, remember. You're Sören.

Wonderful, says Kierkegaard.

(How well this is going).

Now what?

I was wondering....says Kierkegaard.

Let me guess, says Angelina. Something philosophical?

In a manner of speaking, says Kierkegaard. It could be described as another imaginary scenario.

He looks up. Vello gives him a thumbs down.

I mean, says Kierkegaard, I have to make a confession.

You ARE married, says Angelina.

No, says Kierkegaard. This isn't my phone.

Then whose phone is it? asks Angelina.

One of my colleagues, says Kierkegaard. But don't worry. I've decided to buy my own phone very shortly.

Great, says Angelina. So whose contact list am I on?

Gaius Plinius Secundus, says Kierkegaard. A respectable person. In fact, he's the reason I'm calling you now. He needs a pencil sharpener.

You realise how disappointing this call is becoming? says Angelina.

No? says Kierkegaard. Is it disappointing?

I thought you might have been calling to ask me out, says Angelina. Not to confess that you've added me to the contact list of a person who needs a pencil sharpener.

When you put it like that, says Kierkegaard, it sounds awful. I'm so sorry. I tend to get anxious with women.

Vello gives him a thumbs up. Honesty. Women like that.

Never mind, then, says Angelina. School's finished. I've got two weeks holiday. Where are you?

In a bird hide in the Stipiturus Conservation Park, says Kierkegaard. Not far from the road. Near where the volunteers have been planting Mount Compass oak bush and Osborn's eyebright.

Vello raises an eyebrow. Great touch! Local knowledge.

I'll bring my three best novelty pencil sharpeners, says Angelina.

Why three? asks Kierkegaard.

A test, says Angelina. The one you choose will tell me a lot about you.

They're not really for me, says Kierkegaard. They're for Gaius.

Him too, says Angelina.

Holding Ronnie At Ninety

Gaius gazes out from the bird hide, keeping a list in his head.

Superb fairy wren, New Holland honeyeater, White-browed scrub wren, Latham's snipe.

If only he had a pencil.

Or Victor's red pen.

There is a thudding sound beyond the bird hide.

Terence crashes in.

Guess what? I found a pencil!

Well done, Terence, says Gaius. And not before time. I have spotted several common species and one Latham's snipe, which is less common.

It's called Ronnie, says Terence. See?

It is indeed, says Gaius. But Ronnie needs sharpening.

He was sharp when I found him, says Terence. I wrote on my arm.

Soft lead, says Gaius. Perhaps a 2B.

He takes Ronnie from Terence and begins to write Superb fairy wren in his notebook, with the blunt end of Ronnie.

He has to hold Ronnie at ninety degrees to the paper. Even then the writing looks scratchy.

Superb fa.... writes Gaius. It's no good, I'll need a sharpener.

Vello and Kierkegaard edge themselves into the bird hide.

Anyone got a sharpener? asks Gaius. This pencil is too blunt to write with.

Lick the end, says Terence.

Licking the end would be pointless, says Gaius.

Very funny, says Vello, But it's turned out rather lucky that you need a sharpener.

How so? asks Gaius.

Vello winks at Kierkegaard, who is standing there nursing the phone.

Because Kierky has made a new friend in the School Swamp, says Vello. A lady teacher, called Angelina. They exchanged phone numbers. So her number is there on your phone.

Hum, says Gaius. It does seem fortuitous, but I can hardly call Angelina and ask for a pencil sharpener when I don't know her.

That's the beauty of the situation, says Vello. Kierky is reluctant to call her without a good reason. Now he has a reason.

I see, says Gaius. No harm in it, I suppose.

Do we know when school finishes? asks Kierkegaard, still worried about the timing.

Google the school, says Gaius. You can find out the school hours.

Kierkegaard is familiar enough with other people's phones to know how to google.

He googles the school.

School hours are from 8.45 to 3.15, except on Wednesdays, when they finish at 2.20, says Kierkegaard. No, wait. What's today's date?

 The third, says Vello.

What of? asks Kierkegaard.

July, says Vello.

The school holidays start today, says Kierkegaard. They get out at 2.15. What time is it?

Two o'clock, says Vello.

Kierkegaard realises he has fifteen more minutes for overthinking.

You Will Look Like A Wally

Vello is tired of bird spotting.

He puts on his holiday hat.

Going somewhere? asks Gaius.

Just stretching my legs, says Vello.

Vello stands up. The holiday hat is now visible above the bird hide.

Several parrots are startled, and fly off.

Never mind, says Gaius. Just common red-rumped parrots.

I know how they feel, says Vello. How long have we sat here bird spotting?

Too long, without a pencil, says Gaius.

I wonder if Kierkegaard has found Terence, says Vello. I might stroll in the direction of the arrow.

Very well, says Gaius. I'll hold the fort here.

Gaius is now alone in the bird hide, with no pencil, and no phone.

He hopes nothing turns up that might need recording.

Vello strolls through the low vegetation, avoiding the prickles.

It occurs to him that he could call Kierkegaard, who has Gaius's phone.

Ring ring.

Yes? says Kierkegaard, suspiciously.

It's me, Vello, says Vello. I'm coming to meet you. Did you find Terence?

I did, says Kierkegaard. He was at the School Swamp.

Ha ha! laughs Vello. A School Swamp. Who came up with that one?

Mount Compass School, says Kierkegaard. It's for educational purposes.

Of course it is, says Vello. Where are you exactly?

HERE! says Terence, who has seen Vello, and run up to meet him. Look, a pencil!

Very nice, says Vello. Looks like it's spent too long in the School Swamp.

It's called Ronnie, says Terence.

Ronnie is blunt, says Vello.

No, he isn't, says Terence.

But he is, because Terence has been writing on his arm with Ronnie, and made Ronnie blunt.

Kierkegaard catches up with Terence.

Ah, Vello, says Kierkegaard. There you are.

I wasted a call, says Vello. I would have bumped into you regardless.

Yes, but it is opportune, says Kierkegaard.

What's opportune? asks Vello.

The subject of phone calls, says Kierkegaard. I have a dilemma.

I love other people's dilemmas, says Vello. Spit it out.

I met a lady teacher in the School Swamp, says Kierkegaard. Named Angelina. We quite hit it off.

They're getting married, says Terence.

We are NOT! says Kierkegaard.

But you proposed to her. You idiot! says Vello.

Not even that, says Kierkegaard. It was an imaginary scenario.

YOU may have thought so, says Vello. She may not.

We exchanged phone numbers, says Kierkegaard.

Is that all? says Vello. Hardly a dilemm.....a-ha-ha! How delicious! It's Gaius phone!

Yes, says Kierkegaard. I'm afraid she might try to call me and HE will answer.

He will, says Vello. She will be most alarmed.

Perhaps I should call her, and explain, says Kierkegaard.

You will look like a wally, says Vello.

I know, says Kierkegaard, and when should I do it? She and her class have returned to Mount Compass School for lesson seven.

You shouldn't call during lesson seven, says Vello.

That's what I thought, says Kierkegaard.

Wait till she knocks off, says Vello.

Kierkegaard thinks this is sensible advice, except.... what time does school finish ....? and won't Gaius want his phone back?

Remember This Day

Terence goes up to Leanne.

Are you going to drop a pencil? asks Terence.

You're weird boy, says Leanne.

Mrs Bennett and Kierkegaard are exchanging phone numbers.

Kierkegaard knows it is wrong.

Come on class! calls Mrs Bennett. We'll be late for lesson seven!

The school children trail off, behind Mrs Bennett.

We must make tracks as well, says Kierkegaard. Come on, Terence.

No one dropped a pencil, says Terence.

They don't always, says the emu-wren.

Where have YOU been? asks Terence.

Listening, says the emu-wren.  I was hiding in the Peppermint Box Gum.

He nearly got married, says Terence. To Angelina. And that was the name of their teacher.

I thought it was an imaginary story until then, says the emu-wren.

Are you going to get married? asks Terence.

Me no, says the emu-wren.

Nor me, says Terence.

But guess what I found, under the Peppermint Box Gum, says the emu-wren. An old pencil.

How old? asks Terence.

Come and see, says the emu-wren.

He leads the way to the other side of the Peppermint Box Gum, and there poking out from dead leaves on the ground is a pencil.

Yay! says Terence, picking it up. Woo! Yuck! It's mouldy.

Give it to me, says Kierkegaard. That's moss, if I'm not mistaken.

Gaius won't want it, says Terence

He might, if we can get rid of the moss, says Kierkegaard.

Terence examines the pencil. Knocks some moss off.

It has a name scratched on. Ronnie.

Kierkegaard, Terence and the emu-wren start making their way back to the bird hide.

It's quite a long way, remember.

On the way Terence writes on his own arm with Ronnie.

Not proper writing.

What does that say? asks the emu-wren.

Remember this day, says Terence.

What about it? asks the emu wren.

I found Ronnie, says Terence.

I thought I found Ronnie, says the emu-wren.

It's the same thing, says Terence.