Don't Bugger Up The Spelling

Gaius gazes at the ocean. 

He spits out a pip.

He wonders if Saint Roley has had any luck spotting a dunnart.

The early morning sun warms the rock he is sitting on.

He should have a hat.

He is about to stand up and get one when the copperhead appears, from the front.

Ah! says Gaius, freezing in a half-standing position.

Do sit down, says the copperhead.

He does.

I've just met your colleague, says the copperhead. He told me you were here. So I've come down to make your acquaintance.

You refer to Saint Roley? asks Gaius.

No, says the copperhead. An oystercatcher, with the faintest French accent.

That's Saint Roley, says Gaius. He goes by that name.

One doesn't go by such a name, surely, says the copperhead. One is granted a sainthood, post mortem.

Circumstances, says Gaius. He was named by the infant Terence, who was originally planning call him Chicken, but was advised against it.

Interesting, but that's not why I'm here, says the copperhead. I wished to meet you, having heard of your writings.

Here on Kangaroo Island! says Gaius, surprised.

We're not quite the backwater you think us, says the copperhead.

I didn't mean that, says Gaius. Only that I'm flattered.

Have you thought of updating them? asks the copperhead. Some of your ideas are quite dated.

I'm always updating, says Gaius. In fact I'm here making notes on the regeneration, and the progress or otherwise of endangered species.

I'm listed as vulnerable, says the copperhead.

I'm aware of that. I shall add you to my list of sightings, says Gaius. You're a pygmy copperhead, Austrelaps labialis.

I am, says the copperhead. Don't bugger up the spelling.

Gaius smiles. As if he would bugger up the spelling.

And how have you found things, after the fires? asks Gaius.

Not great, says the copperhead. We've all had to make changes.

May I ask what changes? asks Gaius.

For example, one spots a dunnart, asleep  in a grass clump, says the copperhead. We know now they're critically endangered. 

And this changes your behaviour? asks Gaius.

Let's say that it might, says the copperhead. 

Fascinating, that you consider these things, says Gaius.

Not at all, says the copperhead. Any other questions?

Dated, says Gaius. To what were you referring?

Your cures for toothache, says the copperhead. Erigeron. Berries that make your teeth fall out. Totally useless.

I admit modern dentistry is an improvement, says Gaius.

And there are no humans whose saliva is an antidote to snake bite, adds the copperhead. Furthermore, snakes do not flee people born of adultery.

Much of my early writing was based on hearsay, says Gaius. 

You should issue a statement, says the copperhead.

No need. It's well known, says Gaius. These days I tend to rely on real evidence.

As if to support this, Saint Roley appears, with good news.

He has spotted a dunnart!

Predator Conscience

 Saint Roley flies into the ravine.

He's looking for a grass clump, a nest, a sleeping dunnart.

He spots a grass clump, and lands softly nearby.

He creeps up and parts the grass with his beak.

Ah! A cup-shaped nest made of dried grass and leaves.

Empty.

This could be the nest of the dunnart that was eaten by the night heron, says Saint Roley, aloud.

An indeterminate sound arises, from another grass clump.

Sorrow, anguish, discomfort?  

Saint Roley tiptoes over.

Oops! A copperhead!

Ahem, says Saint Roley. I don't mean to bother you. I'm in search of a dunnart.

Dunnarts are rare, says the copperhead.

I know, says Saint Roley. Have you seen one?

Not since yesterday, says the copperhead. There was one asleep in that tussock.

What a shame, says Saint Roley. I was hoping to find one.

That was my hope also, says the copperhead. 

Were you planning to eat it? asks Saint Roley.

Perhaps not, says the copperhead. They are endangered.

At last! A predator with a conscience! says Saint Roley. I'm sure there are other more common prey for you to choose from. 

Skinks everywhere, says the copperhead. But I'm picky. I like frogs. I sometimes take mammals or birds 

That's a joke, right? says Saint Roley.

No, says the copperhead. But your legs are thin, and you look peaky.

I'm tired, says Saint Roley.

Then why waste your time looking for dunnarts? asks the copperhead.

I'm helping a friend out, says Saint Roley. I was in Emu Bay with dear Porntip. We made a nest together, she laid an egg in it. The nest was destroyed. End of baby.

O sniff! says the copperhead. Was it an egg or a baby?

It was an egg, says Saint Roley. But if it had hatched, and grown to maturity, it would have helped me get over the loss of my brother.

A double whammy, says the copperhead.

Saint Roley had not thought of this. A double whammy! So it is.

Who is your friend? asks the copperhead. 

Gaius Plinius Secundus, says Saint Roley. A natural historian. 

I've heard of him, says the copperhead. I'd like to meet him.

He's down by the shore eating an orange, says Saint Roley. 

I'll head down there, says the copperhead.

Okay, says Saint Roley. But best if you don't surprise him. Circle round and approach from the front.

Allow me to know how to approach him, says the copperhead.

Sorry, says Saint Roley. That's me. Overly helpful.

I'm sure you meant well, says the copperhead. Goodbye.

She slithers away, towards Gaius.

Saint Roley continues to look for a dunnart.

It's Called Rocket Science

Gaius is alone, with his notebooks and an orange.

He flips through a notebook. Somewhere, there should be notes on the dunnart.

Ah yes, notes on the dunnart.

They sleep, during the day. 

I'd forgotten that, thinks Gaius. But it should have been obvious, if the night heron ate one. So it seems I can have the day off. I'll go for a swim.

He crunches down to the shore, with his orange. 

The wind is chilly.

He sits down on a rock.

No one to talk to.  He peels the orange.

A bird alights, on the rock beside him. It's Saint Roley.

All alone? says Saint Roley.

Day off, says Gaius. I had planned to search for a dunnart, but they sleep in the day.

They can be woken, says Saint Roley. Do you have reason to believe one is nearby?

Yes, says Gaius. A night heron ate one here, as recently as yesterday.

Did he not know they're endangered? says Saint Roley.

How was he to know? says Gaius. 

By their scarcity, says Saint Roley. It's called rocket science.

Not rocket science, says Gaius.

Yes, rocket science, says Saint Roley. I know the expression.

But the expression is, 'it's not rocket science', says Gaius.

What's the point of that? asks Saint Roley.

Rocket science is complicated, says Gaius. 

So it is, says Saint Roley. 

I'm glad you're here, says Gaius. How is Porntip? 

Not happy, says Saint Roley. Some fool ran over our nest in his vehicle, scrambling our baby.

I'm sorry to hear it, says Gaius.

Where's that baby you had? asks Saint Roley.

Baby-Glossy? We left him under an umbrella-shaped rock, learning English from Captain Baudin.

Pity, says Saint Roley. Porntip and I can teach English

Probably a purer form of English than Captain Baudin, says Gaius.

Probably, says Saint Roley. But French is also a beautiful language.

I never could get the hang of it, says Gaius.

Shall I try and rustle up a dunnart? asks Saint Roley.

I'd be grateful, says Gaius. 

Delicious Marsupial

Now it is morning.

Sunlight filters into the cave

Everyone is awake now.

Only Gaius is missing.

Gaius returns to the cave with his notebook.

You were right, Terence, it was a night heron, says Gaius. 

He shows Terence his notebook.

Night Heron x 1  

Is that my one? asks Terence.

One and the same, says Gaius. Well spotted!

Terence feels proud.

We should get going, says Arthur. 

Are we going to split up? asks Louisa.

Not me and the Ear, says Terence. 

You can both stay with me, says Gaius. 

Where? asks Terence. 

Here, says Gaius. You can help me. Your night heron gave me some crucial information. 

Did you speak to it? asks Louisa.

I did, says Gaius. Unbelievable as it may seem, yesterday evening it had eaten a dunnart.

What? cries Louisa. I don't believe it! A dunnart! They're critically endangered!

I know, I know, says Gaius. But one needs to tread carefully. The night heron was unaware of the plight of the dunnart. He was simply eating a delicious marsupial treat.

So, says Arthur. Did you write Dunnart x 1 in your notebook?

No, says Gaius. I did not feel justified, not having seen it.  

There may be other dunnarts in the area, says Louisa. Is that why you're staying?

Yes, says Gaius. That's why I'm staying.

Okay, says Arthur. But I'm off.

Don't forget to look for Alfonse, and his family, says Louisa. 

Hey! says Terence. I want to go with Arthur.

You can come with me if you like, says Louisa. I'm going to the lighthouse. We might see Alfonse there.

Yay! says Terence.

All right, says Gaius. I can manage here. Just leave me an orange.

O those oranges.

Will they never run out?

The parties split up.

White Underparts

 Not morning yet.

Terence and the Ear sit at the mouth of the cave.

Terence spots something, down by the shore.

A ghost emu, says Terence.

Too small, says the Ear.

A small one, says Terence.

And Louisa was joking, says the Ear. There are no ghost emus round here.

Ghosts can be anywhere, says Terence. Let's sneak up behind it.

Okay, says the Ear.

Terence sneaks down to the shore, loudly.

Crunch crunch.

The ghost emu looks up.

Quiet, snaps the ghost emu. I'm preying.

Don't bother, says Terence. She never listens.

Preying, says the ghost emu. It means trying to catch something for dinner.

No it doesn't, says Terence.

It might in these parts, says the Ear.

Thank you, says the ghost emu.

Are you a ghost emu? asks the Ear.

I'm a rufous night heron, says the ghost emu. And you?

An orange peel ear, says the Ear. I travel with Terence. We enter ear competitions. 

You're have attractive colouring, says the night heron. 

So do you, says the Ear. What do you call those colours?

Cinnamon upper parts and white underparts, says the night heron.

Ha ha, laughs Terence. White underparts.

Hush! says the night heron. Or it's goodbye, dinner.

What do you eat? asks the Ear.

Crabs, and small fish, says the heron, Sea turtle hatchlings, also frogs, mice and wasps.

What a life, says the Ear.

That's one way of looking at it, says the night heron.

We'll leave you alone then, says the Ear.

Wait, says Terence. Can we count you? 

I don't see why not, says the night heron.

Terence and the Ear crunch back to the cave where Gaius and the others are sleeping.

Guess what? says Terence, poking Gaius.

Some confusion follows.

The Lost Inscription

It's still night time.

The ravine opens onto a beach which is sandy.

On each side are high rocks.

On one side a black cave yawns open (not literally).

Arthur heads for it.

Should he do that? asks Gaius.

Why not? asks Louisa.

Might he become trapped by the tide? asks Gaius.

No, says Louisa. Let's follow him.

wersh-wersh-shoom 

Hear that? says Terence.

Yes, says the Ear. That's the sound of the sea.

blunch-blunch

Pebbles shifting.

They enter the cave.

Anyone got a torch? asks Arthur.

I have, says Louisa. 

She turns it on. 

Ooh! Rimstone and stalactites. 

Wonderful, says Gaius. Is this the one with the famous inscription?

Could be, says Louisa. No one's seen the inscription since the 1990s.

What's an inscription? asks Terence.

Writing, says Louisa. They say Captain Baudin wrote his name on the wall of the cave. You can't see it now.

Probably covered by shifting sands, says Gaius. 

Let's DIG! says Terence.

He starts digging at random.

I may be just an Ear, says the Ear, but I would dig close to the rock face.

Where's the  rock face? asks Terence.

It's all rock face, says Gaius.

Just imagine you're him, says Louisa. You walk into the cave with your men. You say: Let's leave something to show we've been here. You decide to scratch your name on the rock face. Now where would you do it?

Imagine you're lower, says Arthur.

Because I'm a lobster, says Terence. 

No, says Arthur. At the time you would've been a human sea captain. But if sand's covering it now the floor of the cave at the time must have been lower.

Good deductive reasoning, Arthur, says Gaius. Now Terence, where will you dig?

Why do I have to do it? asks Terence.

You don't, says Louisa. You'd never find it anyway. 

Let's all try and get a few hours' sleep before sunrise, says Gaius. 

I never sleep, says Terence. What will I do?

Keep watch, says Louisa. 

What for? asks Terence.

The tide coming in to drown us, says Arthur.

Night birds, says Gaius.

Ghost emus, says Louisa.

The sleepers lie down in the sand.

Terence and the Ear sit at the mouth of the cave, keeping watch for these things.

Two Wrong Persons

Is anyone thinking what I'm thinking? asks Louisa.

What are you thinking? asks Arthur.

That what we're doing is crazy, says Louisa.

What in particular? asks Arthur.

We're not meant to be here at night, says Louisa. There's no camping. And we've run out of oranges. And you ate the chocolate, and we've left Baby-Glossy with a lobster.....

That was sensible, says Gaius, cycling close behind them. 

Okay, maybe that was sensible, says Louisa. But what about the rest?

Look around you, says Arthur. 

Louisa doesn't need to.

Blackness, dripping bushes, the occasional revelatory moon glint.

That owl.

Or another one.

And rocks.

Are you SCARED? asks Terence.

Me no, says the Ear.

Not you, her, says Terence.

No, says Louisa. Just thinking. Do you think you've missed seeing Alfonse?

Wah! says Terence. Have I?

No, says Gaius. Alfonse will be here tomorrow, with his family.

And his ear, says Terence.

If it is an ear, says Louisa. What was the competition exactly?

Whose is an ear? says Terence.

That's not an Ear competition, says the Ear. I was expecting something like, you know, a whisper. Which ear can best hear it. Perhaps it gets softer. Until none of us can.

That's a great competition, says Louisa. Did we arrange where to meet them?

No, says Gaius. But they're sure to turn up at Remarkable Rocks. 

Or the lighthouse, says Arthur.

Indeed. Or the lighthouse, says Gaius. Neither of which were burnt down.

Okay, says Louisa. We should split up, so we don't miss them.

At first light, we shall, says Gaius. It's an excellent way to proceed. We can all make notes on the recovery. We can all count endangered birds. And work our way back to where we left Captain Baudin with Baby-Glossy.

But who will I go with? asks Terence. What if it's the wrong person?

In fact, says the Ear. There will be two wrong persons.

Who are they? asks Terence.

We don't know yet, says Louisa. But whoever is the right person can call you, if you're not with them.

Or, says the Ear, they could whistle, and we would come.

And we'd automatically win the competition, says Terence.

I should say so, says the Ear.

By this time they have arrived at the Ravine des Casoars, which at night is even more dreary. 

Rarely-mont

Alors! He seems to like me, says Captain Baudin. 

I'll ask him, says Terence. Do you like Captain Bo Dan?

Squoo, says Baby-Glossy.

Terence looks at the Ear.

What? says the Ear. Am I involved in this somehow?

Yes, says Terence. You know what he means.

You certainly seem to, says Gaius. 

All right, says the orange peel Ear. He likes the Captain.

Anyone can see that, says Louisa. Why don't we leave him with the Captain, overnight.

Squoo! says Baby-Glossy. Mimic-mimic.

He wants language lessons, says the Ear.

I can do that, says Captain Baudin. French or English?

French or English? asks the Ear.

Squish, says Baby-Glossy.

English, says the Ear.

It has fortuitously stopped raining.

A few raindrops drip from the rim of the rock umbrella.

The moon appears, between non-threatening clouds.

An owl hoots.

Drip... hoot 

Time to get moving, says Gaius. Are you sure it's all right to leave Baby-Glossy?

Certainment, says Captain Baudin.

Squer-mont, says Baby Glossy.

Certain-ly, I should have said,  says Captain Baudin. It will give me a task. And alleviate my loneliness.

Squertin, says Baby Glossy. Div me a squask.

Wow! says Louisa. He's already learning!

Shall we meet at the Ravine des Casoars tomorrow? asks Gaius.

I rarely go there, says Captain Baudin.

Rarely-mont, says Baby-Glossy.

Captain Baudin gives Baby Glossy a sharp pinch on the shoulder.

Non! Rare-lee! Rare-lee!

Rare-lee, squeaks Baby-Glossy.

Arthur and Louisa are on their bikes already.

You ate the last of the chocolate, says Louisa.

There was nothing else to do, says Arthur.

Drip... hoot

Gaius lifts Terence and the competition-winning orange peel Ear into his back pack.

We'll pass by here on our way back, says Gaius. See how the lessons are going. By then we may have located some substitute parents.

If I'm not here, says Captain Baudin, I'll leave you a note.

Or a map, says Gaius. With your location.

Oui, says Captain Baudin. 

Wee, says Baby-Glossy.

Wee, says Terence. That was good English.

No one points out that it wasn't.

Benefits Of Extinction

The rain continues.

But everyone is dry under the big rock umbrella.

Captain Baudin eats one more segment of orange.

Alas, did you say? says Gaius. What happened in the Ravine des Casoars? Should we be vigilant?

Not at all, says Captain Baudin. I don't normally speak of it.

Come on, says Louisa. How bad can it be?

Bad, says Terence.

Bobber, says Baby-Glossy.

What does that mean? asks Terence.

Bad, says the orange peel Ear. Or possibly, Bad Lobster.

I am not a bad lobster, says Captain Baudin. 

Wait! I remember, says Louisa. We learned all about it in school. You saw Kangaroo Island emus and thought they were cassowaries! So you called it Ravine des Casoars.

An understandable mistake, says Gaius. I myself have made many. My cure for toothache, for example. One simply has to live with it. Or blame one's sources.

I live with it daily, says Captain Baudin. At least the Kangaroo Island emu is now extinct.

That's not a good thing! says Louisa.

It is for me, says Captain Baudin. It's a dreary place, now.

Have some chocolate, says Louisa. That will cheer you up.

She looks for the chocolate.

But the chocolate is gone,

Arthur has been silent for some time now.

There may be a connection.

Never mind, says Captain Baudin. You have all been so kind.

I haven't, says Terence. 

It doesn't matter, says Captain Baudin. You have your hands full with that Baby Glossy. I think it could benefit from remedial speech therapy. 

The orange peel Ear understands it, says Gaius.

I disagree, says Captain Baudin. Particularly with the Ear's interpretation of Bobber. What that bird needs is someone to mimic.

That's why we're looking for substitute parents, says Louisa.

Mimic, says Baby-Glossy. Mimic-mimic. Mimic-mimic-mimic-mimic.

It waddles over to Captain Baudin, and tucks itself under his dominant claw.

A Slow Transformation

The dark clouds have lowered. 

Rain drops splatter, then pour.

How annoying, says Gaius. There's no shelter. We'd better keep going.

Thunder.

Head for those rocks, says Louisa. 

Yes, on KI there are plenty of rocks. They head for them.

They throw down their bikes and crouch under an overhang.

Terence likes this. The rock is like an umbrella.

He points it out to Baby-Glossy.

Umbrella, says Terence.

Squobber, says Baby-Glossy.

No, says Terence. Um-BRELLA!

Be patient with him, says Louisa. He's scared.

Nobber, says Baby-Glossy.

The orange peel ear feels it's time for an intervention.

He's seen a lobster, says the orange peel ear. That's why he said squobber.

How can he see anything in this storm? asks Gaius.

Because, says the orange peel ear, the lobster's right here, behind you.

Louisa turns first.

Ooh! a lobster! 

The lobster is wearing a sea captain's hat, and looks gloomy.

Can it be? Gaius can't believe it.

Captain Louttit?

Non, says the lobster. I am not Captain Louttit. Do you know Captain Louttit?

Yes, says Gaius. I know Captain Louttit. But I see now that you are not he.

I am Captain Nicolas Baudin, says the lobster. Of the famous Baudin Expedition.

Pleased to meet you, says Gaius. What brings you here?

The rain, says the captain. 

Captain Baudin! says Louisa. How come you're a lobster?

It happens to us all, says Captain Baudin. When old sea captains die they slowly transform into lobsters.

True says Gaius. We know many such captains. 

Mean ones, says Terence. Are you mean?

Not at all, says Captain Baudin. Is it still raining?

Yes, says Gaius. We may as well stay and keep dry. Would you care for an orange?

I would enjoy an orange, says Captain Baudin. Oh!

He has noticed the Ear.

Would you like me to save you the peel? asks Captain Baudin.

No need, says Gaius. Terence has more than enough for his competition.

I might need some spares, says Terence. 

I'll save it, says Captain Baudin.

He peels his orange and breaks it into segments. He eats two or three.

I don't see many people here at night, says Captain Baudin. Not these days.

We have permission, says Gaius. We're heading for the Ravine des Casoars. Do you know it?

Alas! Too well! says Captain Baudin.

Dark Clouds Cross The Moon

 It's dark now.

Gaius cycles behind Arthur and Louisa, who are sharing the chocolate.

Terence is in Gaius's back pack, with Baby-Glossy.

Terence worries something bad will happen.

Squoo! agrees Baby-Glossy.

The good ear perks up.

What bad thing might happen?

Did you hear that? asks Terence.

Squoo! says Baby-Glossy.

You need to learn to talk, says Terence.

Squoo, says Baby-Glossy. 

(He thinks so too. Then he could tell Terence that the orange peel ear wants to know what bad thing might happen. He makes an effort)

Squat? asks Baby-Glossy.

Talk, says Terence.

Squalk, says Baby-Glossy.

That's good, says Terence. Now answer this question. Did you hear that?

Squat bad-squing? says Baby-Glossy.

The orange peel ear is tired of waiting for Baby-Glossy to interpret his feelings.

Next time the bike jerks, he will try something radical.

Jerk!

(This didn't happen at once, but some minutes later. The road is not bad.)

The orange peel ear's tiny hole of a mouth splits open wider.

WHAT BAD THING MIGHT HAPPEN?

It's loud. Gaius hears it.

Nothing bad will happen, says Gaius. The ranger gave us permission. Arthur arranged it. 

It wasn't me, says Terence.

I know that, says Gaius.

They are now passing the site of the Snake Lagoon campsite, which was burnt in the fires.

See that, says Louisa. 

They all see it. 

The native sedges, ghanias, yakkas, hakeas and mallees have re-sprouted.

Unlike the amenities.

It wasn't me that TALKED, says Terence.

But no one is listening.

Arthur's phone rings.

It's Sweezus. 

Hi, says Sweezus. Tour's over.

I know, says Arthur. Pogacar won.

Man! says Sweezus, I felt sorry for Roglic. His face at the end. Freakin' tragic.

I bet, says Arthur. But Richie did okay.

Yeah, says Sweezus. And he's on his way home already. So are we. 

That's good, says Arthur. When'll we see you?

Gotta quarantine for two weeks, says Sweezus. Bummer.

We're still on KI, says Arthur. We're heading for the Ravine des Casoars. It's dark and we're eating chocolate, and strange voices are coming out of Gaius's back pack.

Is it Terence? asks Sweezus.

Sounds more like orange peel, says Arthur. 

That'd be right, says Sweezus.

.....

The call ends.

They cycle onwards.

Dark clouds cross the moon.

Time For Some Kudos

Yippee! says Terence. This ear's a winner!

What about mine? asks Louisa.

A spare,  says Terence.

So you've got two ears, made of orange peel, says Arthur.

Yes, says Terence.

How will you know if they work? asks Arthur.

If they hear me, says Terence.

But how will you know if they hear you? asks Arthur.

Good question, says Gaius. The orange peel has but one property, its ears.

Two properties, says Terence.

One faculty, says Gaius. The point is, that with no other properties, such as a mouth, it can't demonstrate that it heard you.

Or legs, says Louisa. Legs could demonstrate that it heard you.

Watch this, says Terence. Orange peel up!

The orange peel with the ear made by Louisa does nothing.

The orange peel with the ear made by Baby-Glossy twists up.

See, says Terence. This one heard me.

Baby-Glossy thinks it's time for some kudos.

Squoo! says Baby-Glossy.

The orange peel with the ear made by Baby-Glossy, says softly Squoo-yu!

Where did that come from?

Does it have a mouth after all? It must be a small one.

Anyway, Baby-Glossy looks contented.

Remarkable, says Gaius. But trivial, in the circumstances.

True, says Louisa. We're in Flinders Chase and it'll soon be night time. We have to figure out what to do.

Indeed, says Gaius. We have no food but oranges, and no camping equipment. All the Glossy Black Cockatoos will be resting. What might we do that is useful?

Head west to the Ravine des Casoars, says Louisa. Then we'll get a good start in the morning. And don't worry. We also have chocolate.

This is news to Arthur.

He thought he'd finished the chocolate.

Sometimes, the unexpected happens.

As in France, at the penultimate stage of the Tour, in the Time Trials.

Primoz Roglic cracks on the gruelling climb up to La Planche des Belles Filles. He loses two minutes to his rival Tadj Pogacar, who will wear the yellow jersey in Paris.

And Richie Porte pedals himself to third place on the podium.

Which was (to be honest) not unexpected.

The Puncher

 How about that? says Louisa.

She shows Terence the ear.

Too big, says Terence.

You should have said, says Louisa. What size is it supposed to be?

Matching, says Terence.

Matching what? asks Louisa.

The other ear, says Terence.

Is there another ear? asks Louisa.

Not yet, says Terence.

Louisa sighs. 

They didn't teach this in Vegetable Sculpture.

For which she got an A plus, last year.

Baby Glossy stops poking twisting slicing and nudging.

His ear is complete. And smaller than Louisa's

Arthur's phone rings.

Hey! says Arthur. How did you go?

Flat stage, says Sweezus. I moved up a couple of positions. Some guys've dropped out.

Good one, says Arthur. What are you doing right now?

Eating, says Sweezus. Goat cheese and honey of the region. What're you doing?

Watching Louisa sculpt an ear out of orange peel, says Arthur. She's made it too big, according to Terence. 

What's it for? asks Sweezus.

Don't know, says Arthur. Want to ask him?

Yeah, put him on, says Sweezus. 

Arthur hands Terence his phone.

Guess what? says Terence. My orange peel is winning.

Cool, says Sweezus. What's the competition?

With Alfonse, says Terence. He's got the short pieces. But mine got shorter too. That was because the long one got dropped on the road, and it had a split in it, and the dropping broke it open.

Okay, says Sweezus. So who's Alfonse? And what's the ear competition?

A kid, says Terence. What was the other question?

Ear competition, says Sweezus. 

We made mouths in our orange peels says Terence. But they didn't talk, so Alfonse said maybe they were ears. Then I had to come here, and he's coming too so it's a competition.

Sounds like the Tour, says Sweezus. Want to know how it's going?

Yes, says Terence. Are you winning?

No way, says Sweezus. Looks like it's going to be Roglic. But Richie's in with a chance, if he does well in the time trial tomorrow. He's on a roll at the moment. Yesterday he got a puncture.

Woo! says Terence. A puncher!.

And he caught up, says Sweezus. That goes to show what you can do if you're determined.

Wow! says Terence.

You like that? says Sweezus. 

But Terence has dropped Arthur's phone to admire the orange peel ear made by Baby-Glossy, which is the perfect size to win the competition. 

Poke-Twist-Slice-Nudge

 In France.

Team Philosophe are in their room eating tartiflette and drinking Rochoise beer.

Vello: I do love tartiflette.

David: Especially with lardons.

Sweezus: Me too.

Belle: You deserve it. You've all done so well.

David: Not that well.

Belle: At least you're still here. No one's fallen off or even had a puncture.

David: True. What would we do if one of us had a puncture?

Belle: I suppose it depends on which one.

Sweezus: What if I had a puncture?

Vello: You'd be finished. In fact you'd be finished if either David or I had a puncture. We'd take your bike.

Sweezus: Yeah right. That's what I figured.

Belle: Cheer up. It might never happen.

Everyone chews on their tartiflette portions, thinking of various things that might never happen.

Meanwhile on Kangaroo Island, it's past five pm.

All the visitors have left Flinders Chase, except Gaius, Terence, Louisa and Arthur.

We won't include Baby Glossy, because he's a bird, and allowed to be anywhere.

Terence is examining his orange peel, which is now in three parts.

Hey! says Terence. Does that look like an ear?

Where? asks Louisa. There? No it doesn't.

What about this? asks Terence.

If I had a knife I could carve out an ear for you, says Louisa. We learned vegetable sculpture at school.

Arthur has a knife, which he produces.

Louisa starts carving an ear.

The scent of pierced orange peel reminds Gaius he's hungry.

Any oranges left? asks Gaius.

Have this one, says Arthur. 

Gaius sucks on the orange and looks up at the trees.

They are sprouting fresh leaves at the bottom. The tops are black sticks, breaching the sky

No birds sing.

Baby-Glossy is glad. If no birds sing that means no parents.

He watches Louisa make an ear.

He could do that with his beak if he tried to. Poke-twist-slice-nudge.

Gaius has finished his orange and placed the peel within reach of Baby-Glossy.

Baby Glossy gets to work on the ears.

What Cats Have

 At the finish of stage seventeen on the Col de la Loze.

Miguel Angel 'Superman' Lopez has won it.

He gets off his bike in slo-mo.

And here comes Primoz Roglic. Ditto. And Tedj Pogaçar. 

Then someone else, then Richie. 

Bravo.

Vello, David and Sweezus cross the finish line together, in a middling position.

It wasn't exactly the plan.

They sit on the ground, next to their bikes. Exhausted.

David: At least we finished.

Vello: No thanks to those fools of spectators, crowding in and hooting and not wearing masks.

Sweezus : Blu-uhh! 

Vello: Serves you right, Sweezus. David warned you about the Chartreuse.

Sweezus: Yeah, well. Sorry.

Richie wanders over.

Richie: You guys did okay. Today was a hard one.

David: You did well too. Now you'll be fourth in the General Classification.

Richie: Yeah, thanks. Gotta make it worth not being there for the baby.

Vello: Very philosophical

David: It is.

Vello: I'd have done the same.

Sweezus: Don't know if I would.

Vello: You wouldn't. Any excuse to get out of coming.

Sweezus: That's not fair. I had excuses. But I came.

David: Don't provoke him.

Richie: Yeah. Hey what did you guys think of my poem?

Vello: It's more a series of incidents.

Richie: It's meant to be introspective.

David: Yes, be fair, Vello. What about the cats?

Vello: Nine is a number for cats. How is that introspective?

Richie: Nine lives. That's what cats have. So nine isn't unlucky.

Vello: You haven't thought that through.

Sweezus: Ha ha! Yeah, Richie. After nine, then what? Dead moggie.

Richie: You guys! I'm here aren't I? Well, I'm heading off for a massage.

He goes off to get one.

Team Philosophe remain slumped at the side of the road, against a barrier.

Then they too get up to go.

No chance of a massage.

The Col de la Loze gradually empties of people. 

Again the quiet majesty of rocks.

Even so, it thinks to itself.

Glad that's over. 

Sounds Squooish

 Hi Gaius and Terence, says Louisa. Where's Baby-Glossy?

Here, says Terence. He's come back alive!

Squoo! says Baby-Glossy.

How cute, says Louisa. Look, Arthur.

Arthur takes a look at the bundle of baby-soft feathers, and fuzz.

UHH! says Arthur.

Not because of the cute feathers. Something is clutching his shirt at the back.

He turns, and the something turns with him.

It's me, says Saint Roley. I missed the ground. Sorry.

Saint Roley descends to the ground.

It's because I'm exhausted, says Saint Roley.

No one asks why.

Porntip sends her best wishes, says Saint Roley.

Did you get married? asks Terence. Hey! Do you want a baby?

Time will tell if there's to be a baby, says Saint Roley. But the good news is, there's an egg.

How delightful, says Gaius. It will perhaps make up in some part for the loss of your brother.

Saint Roley looks dubious.

You can tell by the set of his beak.

We've got a baby, says Terence. You could have this one.

Saint Roley looks at Baby-Glossy.

Squoo! says Baby-Glossy.

While irresistible to Glossy Black parents, to Saint Roley this merely sounds squooish 

He feigns polite interest.

Very nice, says Saint Roley. I suppose he'll soon lose the fuzz. 

Are you staying? asks Arthur.

Me, no, says Saint Roley. Got to get back to my Porntip.

I didn't mean you, says Arthur. I meant Gaius.

It seems, says Gaius, that we only have until five, when the park closes, and we must leave.

Want to stay overnight? asks Arthur. I bet I can fix it.

Indeed, says Gaius. But didn't you say there were no amenities?

Who needs amenities? says Arthur.

He walks back to the ranger, talks a while. She appears to be smiling.

He comes back. 

It's all good, says Arthur.

That's fantastic! says Louisa. We'll have plenty of time to deal with Baby-Glossy. Perhaps we'll find a couple of adult Glossies that have lost their own baby.

Squoo! A new ma and pa? 

Baby-Glossy looks dubious.

You can tell by the set of his beak.

Plump Lumps

A rest day. La Tour-du-Pin.

Team Philosophe is enjoying a picnic on the banks of the River Bourbré.

Belle opens the picnic basket. An aniseed scent issues out.

Sausages? asks Vello.

Yes, says Belle. Three types. These are rosettes de Lyon and these are jésus de Lyon. The aniseed ones are called murçons. Help yourself to the cheese.

Did you say...? asks Sweezus.

Cheese, says Belle. It's a Saint Marcellin.

No, the second type of sausage, says Sweezus.

Jésus de Lyon, says Belle I thought you'd want to try them. See the plump lumps of white fat? They represent tightly-swaddled babies.

Too much information, says Sweezus.

Let's see, says Vello. They look fine to me. I'll try one.

David peers at the sausage.

This one's got a face, says David.

That's pepper, says Belle.

What's to drink, dear? asks Vello.

Some Grenoble wines, and a bottle of green Chartreuse, says Belle. I couldn't resist the Chartreuse. It reminds me of Arthur. 

Let's get stuck into it, says Sweezus.

He opens the Chartreuse and pours himself a large shot.

Easy! says David.

I miss Arthur, says Sweezus,  pouring himself another. What was that poem.....?

Does a beast on the way to the slaughter house/ dream of fine herbs? says Belle. I remember that one.

Convulsing intestines of riders/ sucking in power/ excreting exhaustion/ in discarded paper bags, says Vello, spitting out a plump jésus.

Papa! I'm surprised you remember! says Belle.

It was quite a good poem, says Vello.

I hear Richie has finished his poem, says David. Has anyone seen it?

Yeah, says Sweezus. It goes like .....Once on Lingshan Mountain...

Really? says Belle. That sounds like something Shu might come up with.

It kind of does, says Sweezus. But the rest is pure Richie.

Go on, says David, licking his fingers.

Once on Lingshan Mountain, (says Sweezus)/ when I was the Richie who rode for Team Sky/ 

two Chinese ecologists thought/ that I might be a pilot.  

                    (Ha ha! laughs Vello. Team Sky!)

Several times at Stage Nine/ I've been forced to abandon/

I once believed nine was unlucky/ the number for cats.

                   (Cats? Oh, cats. I see, says David).

My first poem, a mash-up/ was about a potato/

eaten with butter and salt/ and black pepper.

                   (Belle smiles. She remember the potato).

I'm thirty six now/ I give myself two more years/

at this level/ and it won't be with Trek Segafredo.

And that's it, says Sweezus.

Fighting words, says Vello. Bravo Richie! 

He pours himself a large shot of Chartreuse.

Belle takes a tarte from the basket, a grande tarte aux noix.

Death Has Been Temporary

 At five to three, Gaius arrives at the Flinders Chase entrance.

You have two hours, before closing, says the ranger. 

Thank you, says Gaius. And if that's not enough?

Come back tomorrow, says the ranger.

Gaius pays eleven dollars. Terence is free.

Gaius remounts his bike.

Keep an eye out for Arthur and Louisa, says Gaius.

I'm keeping two eyes out, says Terence. And my orange peel.

He waves the orange peel which was half split in the middle.

One half of the orange peel drops off.

The ranger comes running.

No littering! says the ranger.

Apologies, says Gaius. Would you mind picking it up?

You do it, says the ranger. You dropped it.

Terence dropped it, says Gaius. But if you insist...

I'll do it, sighs the ranger.

She picks up the peel and returns it to Terence.

What's this? A juvenile Glossy! Don't you know they're endangered?

Of course we do, says Gaius. It was abandoned. We thought it might find a home here. 

Not likely, says the ranger. But worth a try I suppose. Have you given it some water?

Yes, says Terence. But it couldn't get the lid off.

The ranger is appalled.

That's not the case, Terence, says Gaius. Don't make up stories. It was you who couldn't get the lid off.

I suppose you blame the infant for everything? snorts the ranger.

Of course not, says Gaius. In fact now that I'm here, I'll offer it water myself.

He takes off his back pack, opens the bottle of water, and tips some into his hand.

 He offers it to Baby-Glossy, who is prostrate beside Terence, on top of Gaius's notebooks and clothes.

Baby-Glossy is unresponsive.

Hold his head, Terence, says Gaius. I'll drip water onto his beak.

Drip drip. He drips it.

Baby-Glossy hiccups. His beak opens. Water dribbles in.

It's clear that death in Baby-Glossy's case has been temporary.

Sqoo! says Baby-Glossy.

A happy outcome. 

We should tell Saint Roley, says Terence.

Next time we see him we shall, says Gaius. But it's more pressing that we should find Arthur.

Arthur? says the ranger. He's just over there with Louisa. Why didn't you say you knew Arthur? 

I didn't think to, says Gaius. Thank you.

Get him to tell you the poem, says the ranger.

Certainly, says Gaius. I wonder what inspired him to compose one?

It's not his poem, says the ranger. It's Richie Porte's poem. Arthur's friend Sweezus sent it to him, from France.

Dear me, says Gaiis. Was it a good one?

The ranger laughs. 

Richie's not a top poet, but it's a valuable insight. Quite introspective. And did you know he came third on the Grand Colombier this arvo? How good is that?

Very good indeed, says Gaius. Well, I mustn't waste any more of my precious two hours. See you at five.

He turns and rides towards Arthur.

Go Introspective

 Are we there yet? asks Terence.

Not far now, says Gaius. How's the bird doing?

Dead, says Terence.

I thought you were looking after it, says Gaius.

I was, says Terence. I still am looking after it.

It may not be dead, says Gaius. Try giving it some water.

Okay, says Terence. 

He tries. But he can't get the lid off Gaius's bottle of water.

Don't spill it, says Gaius. 

I can't if I can't get the lid off, says Terence.

Keep trying, says Gaius. I won't stop because the park closes at five, and they probably won't allow us in after three, if I know National Parks' regulations.

So Baby Glossy stays dead a while longer.

......

Back in France, it's Stage Fourteen already.

Clèrmont-Ferrand to Lyon.

Peter Sagan is determined to build up his points score to win back the green jersey from Bennett.

His team takes the lead, looking daunting.

We'll leave them to it.

What's that sweet smell?

Vello has reached into his food pouch, hoping for anything but Puy-balls.

He pulls out a pastry.

What's that? asks David. 

O joy! A praluline! says Vello, taking a bite of the pastry.

David hopes that he too has got one.

He has.

A sweet brioche infused with rose-coloured crushed almond and hazelnut praline, the pastry soft, rich and buttery.

Heaven. Thanks, Belle!

Sweezus, having dropped back to look for Richie, and not found him, catches up.

Sees his team members eating pralulines. 

O the temptation to reach into his food pouch and bite into that sugary pink-dotted pastry.

Losing even more seconds.

No, he speeds up, passing many riders until he draws level with Richie.

Hey Richie, says Sweezus.

Hey, says Richie.

I was talking to Arthur, says Sweezus. He said congrats on the poem.

He hasn't even heard it, says Richie.

On finishing it, says Sweezus. After all these years.

Yeah, says Richie. I tried so many styles. In the end I decided to go introspective.

Awesome, says Sweezus. Give us a sample.

No time, says Richie. The summit's only two k's off.

Shit, is it? says Sweezus. Better eat this pastry.

He pulls out his praluline.

Richie eyes it.

Wanna bite? asks Sweezus.

No, says Richie. No sharing food. That's the rules.

Yum, says Sweezus. 

Richie speeds away. He's good on the mountains.

In Negative Spaces

The next day, in France.

Stage thirteen, heading for Puy Mary in the Massif Central.

Team Philosophe is somewhere in the main peloton, eating snacks.

Vello: What are these green balls Belle's given us?

David: Delicious aren't they? 

Sweezus: Puy lentils. 

Vello: I might have known. 

Richie Porte (coming up behind them): That smells good. What is it?

Vello: Puy lentils.

Richie: Thought so. The jewels of gastronomie Auvergne.

Sweezus: Want one?

Richie: Ha ha, no thanks. Too volcanic.

He speeds up.

Vello: Probably wise.

But Sweezus thinks differently.

He speeds up too, determined to prove Belle's green lentil balls efficacious.

He draws level with Richie.

Richie: How come no Arthur this year?

Sweezus: He couldn't work for Vello.

Richie: I wanted to show him my poem. It's finally finished.

Sweezus: No kidding. What's it called?

Richie: Space May Be There For a Reason.

Sweezus: That's a line of Pablo's.

Richie: I know. I pinched it. But the rest of it's mine.

He speeds up again.

Sweezus can't match him.

Roman Bardet passes, with his team around him.

Roman looks slightly concussed.

He was in a crash earlier, but continued.

Why do we do this? thinks Sweezus. 

A negative thought, for which we may blame the Puy lentils.

.....

Meanwhile on Kangaroo Island in Gaius's back pack Baby-Glossy is also having negative thoughts.

This orange seed is no good for Baby-Glossy. Yuck-spoo!

And there's water, inside a plastic bottle, swishing around as the bicycle moves.

Baby-Glossy can't get it.

If he can't get it, he'll die.

It looks bad for Baby-Glossy

Not Counting Birds

Terence trudges back for the orange peel. Picks it up.

It's in one piece, but half split in the middle.

Terence will have to be careful, so it won't break in two.

Found it? asks Gaius. Good, let us continue.

Wait, says Terence. Is there a way to join this orange peel back together?

Gaius looks. I don't think so. No.

Terence climbs into the back pack and Gaius starts pedalling.

Pedal, pedal.

Ah! What is that on the road?

Gaius stops to examine it.

It's the baby Glossy Black Cockatoo who fell off the sheoak branch earlier.

Its parents have gone. Perhaps seeking help. If so, an ill-judged decision.

Gaius picks up the unhappy baby Glossy.

What to do now?

He decides to call Arthur.

Arthur is in Flinders Chase, with Louisa.

They are not counting birds.

They are talking about Peter Sagan. 

A shoulder barge is nothing, says Arthur. I've done them myself.

But in a final sprint, says Louisa. 

When else would you do it? says Arthur.

He deserved to lose points, says Louisa. 

Arthur's phone rings. It's Gaius.

Arthur, I've found a baby Glossy, with no parents. I'm bringing it. Where are you exactly?

Not far from the entrance, says Arthur. And bad news. There's no camping.

What? No camping! says Gaius. 

Due to limited amenities, says Arthur. Open from 9-5 only.

Dear me, says Gaius. I'll be there shortly. There's still time. Meanwhile perhaps you could look for a home for the baby Glossy.

Sure, says Arthur. Louisa'll know what to do.

Will I? asks Louisa.

He's found a baby Glossy, says Arthur. He's bringing it.

Great, says Louisa. Why should I know what to do?

Meanwhile Gaius is back on his bike pedalling towards the Flinders Chase entrance.

The Baby Glossy is in the back pack with Terence.

Terence is looking after it.

What would you like? says Terence.

Ma and Pa! squeaks the Glossy.

I've only got orange peel, says Terence.

This is too awful. What if it dies?

Let's go to France and see what's happening at the top of the Suc au May, where a gruelling Stage 12 is ending.

Oh too late. It's finished.

Marc Hirschi has soloed to victory for the last 30 kilometres. Well done, Marc Hirschi!

We're in time for the sprint of the peloton though, if anyone's interested.

Here they come.

Who's in front? 

Peter Sagan.

Just look at his face.

I'm Just A Tool

 Can I take a photo? asks Terence.

What of? asks Gaius.

My orange peel, says Terence.

Why do you want to? asks Gaius.

To send to Sweezus, says Terence. He asked me.

Wait till we get to Flinders Chase, says Gaius. I'll stop then. 

Can I practise? asks Terence. 

Just one photo, says Gaius. 

Terence reaches to the bottom of Gaius's back pack and pulls up a peel.

He drapes it over the flap of the back pack, where it dangles, half in and half out.

He presses the camera icon on Gaius's phone.

Now he can see what his photo will look like.

But where are the holes?

Has Alfonse got the peel with the holes in?

I know! thinks Terence. I'll make some new holes.

He reaches down to the lower depths of the back pack, and comes up with a pencil.

Air at last! says Ronnie. 

Are you any good at ears? asks Terence.

Ears, eyes, noses, says Ronnie. Even chins. What and where?

On the orange peel, says Terence. Hole ears.

Hole ears coming up, says Ronnie. 

Terence waits with the camera.

YOU'LL have to DO it, says Ronnie. I'm just a tool.

Camera, pencil, orange peel. It's all too much for Terence's small cement hands to handle.

Terence accidentally presses the button. Oops! Click! The camera jerks and the orange peel slithers onto the road.

STOP! cries Terence.

Gaius stops, but he seems to be irritated.

You can walk back and get it, says Gaius. And seeing we've stopped I may as well phone Arthur.

He tries, but Arthur is on a call to Sweezus.

Man! says Sweezus. Glad today's over.

What happened? asks Arthur.

Tight sprint finish, says Sweezus. 

Were you in it? asks Arthur.

Nah, says Sweezus. I was way back. Caleb Ewan smashed it. Bennett came second.

So Bennett kept the green, says Arthur.

Yeah and looks like Pete Sagan's done in his chances of getting it back, says Sweezus.

How come? says Arthur.

Docked points for dangerous sprinting, says Sweezus. Shoulder-barged Wout Van Aert near the finish. He's down to 85th position.

Tough, says Arthur.

Yeah, that's close to where I am, says Sweezus. 

Outside Box Thinking

Where are you headed? asks Perrot.

Flinders Chase, says Gaius. I'm documenting the regeneration.

That's where we're going, says Claudine. 

Might see you there, says Perrot.

Yay! says Terence.

Yay! says Alfonse. Let's split our orange peels. Half for you, half for me.

Okay, says Terence. We'll see whose is first to start talking.

But no cheating, says Claudine.

How could we cheat? asks Alfonse.

You could say it said something when it didn't, says Claudine.

When? asks Terence.

Never mind, says Claudine.

The holes might be ears, and that's why they're not talking, says Alfonse.

That's my boy, says Perrot. He thinks outside the box.

Alfonse looks pleased.

Or they might be noses, says Terence.

Perhaps Gaius will say Terence thinks outside the box.

But Gaius isn't listening.

Here, says Terence. These two short ones are for you. I'll keep the long ones.

Alfonse would prefer the long ones, but accepts the two short ones, remaining dad's boy.

Gaius scoops Terence into his back pack, and sets off.

Before long, his phone rings.

Answer that, Terence, says Gaius.

Hello, says Terence. 

Cool! He found you! says Sweezus.

Are you winning? asks Terence.

It's not over, says Sweezus. It's Stage Ten today. We're starting on an island and crossing a viaduct to the mainland, then back over a bridge to another island.

Woop! says Terence. 

Yeah, woop, says Sweezus. Did Gaius tell you I saw an elasmosaurus?

Any clowns? asks Terence. 

No clowns, says Sweezus. 

I've got an orange peel with ears, says Terence. 

Awesome! Send me a photo, says Sweezus. .

That's my boy, says Terence.

What? says Sweezus.

You didn't say it, mutters Terence.

Too late. Sweezus has ended the call, having reached the start line in Ile d'Oleron.

Rest Day Tumescence

 Rest day.

La Rochelle, in la Charente-Maritime.

A formal park, near the water.

A young woman spreads a picnic rug on the grass.

And lays out a picnic. 

Oysters cooked with maritime pine needles, Jonchée cheese, glasswort in vinegar, coucougnettes de Vert Galant (almond chocolates), vins de Jurençon....

Is it a dream? No. Belle is here.

She's called Team Philosophe and arranged to meet them in Parc Charruyer.

Darling! cries Vello. 

Papa! cries Belle. I've brought you a wonderful picnic! Hi David. Hi Sweezie. What's that you've got there?

A spit cake, says Sweezus. All the way from Loudevielle.

Everyone looks at the spit cake, which has seen better days.

Isn't it meant to have spikes? asks David.

Yes, says Vello. But this one doesn't. Can it be called a true spit cake?

If it was cooked on a spit, it can, says Belle. I suppose it was hard to transport.

Heaps hard, says Sweezus. It got soggy when it rained yesterday. Arthur said to use a hair drier. 

But you didn't, says Vello.  

Didn't have one, says Sweezus.

I don't have one either, says Belle. Sit it in the sun here, and see if it perks up a little. Meanwhile try an oyster. Try a dozen! And let me pour you a large glass of Jurençon..... 

How ineffably delightful. 

The sun filters down through the trees. Flowers bloom in peripheral flower beds.

People in masks stroll though the park in a genteel fashion.

The spit cake, in full sun, dries out nicely, and its spikes (which are formed when cake batter is spooned directly onto a spit that is slowly revolving) grow erect, soon becoming tumescent.

Cylindrical With Spikes

 Stage nine. Pau to Laruns.

The teams labour up a difficult mountain.

It's misty. 

No, it's not misty.

It's rain.

The lucky ones pull on their rain jackets, ready for the descent.

Why didn't we think to bring rain coats? grumbles Vello.

Sod's law, says David.

Marc Hirschi cruises by without effort, nibbling on a Power Bar.

Vello draws level with Sweezus.

Any snacks in that bulging pouch? asks Vello.

Three gels, says Sweezus.

It looks bigger, says Vello.

Yeah well that's a surprise for tomorrow, says Sweezus.

The picnic? says David. Well done!

What is it? asks Vello.

It won't be a surprise if I tell you, says Sweezus.

Richie Porte trundles by, overhearing.

We knew we were having a girl, says Richie. It's no less amazing.

Well this is a cake, says Sweezus.

Aha! says Vello. What sort of cake?

No way am I telling, says Sweezus.

I hope it's not getting wet, says David.

Reckon it is, says Richie, speeding up to join the main bunch.

The rest of the stage is a nightmare for Sweezus.

They know about the cake.

What if it gets ruined?

It was a special cake he bought in Loudevielle yesterday.

A spit cake.

It won't do too well in the rain.

At the end of the day he calls Arthur.

Hey, says Arthur. We've counted one Black Glossy.

Just one? says Sweezus.

So far, says Arthur. It was dead, so we probably shouldn't have. What's up?

I bought this spit cake, says Sweezus. And it looked brilliant in the shop. Cylindrical, with spikes. But I had to carry it with me in the rain this arvo and the spikes collapsed and it looks like a freakin' Swiss roll with no jam in it.

Calm down, says Arthur. Use a hair drier.

You just saved my life, bro, says Sweezus.

Who won today? asks Arthur.

Pogacar, says Sweezus. He and Roglic pipped Hirschi in the last 2k, after Hirschi was in front for the previous ninety.

That's racing, says Arthur.

Yeah, says Sweezus.

Crash Crack And Chill

 Gaius wheels his bicycle to the picnic area.

Terence is there, with Perrot and his children.

Gaius, says Terence. Guess what?

Is this your kid? asks Perrot. We were wondering where you'd got to.

Terence knew where I was, says Gaius. It was he who left me. I sent Saint Roley. Then Porntip. Where are they, by the way?

Getting married, says Terence.

How inconvenient, says Gaius. But at least I've found you. 

I hope you don't mind that I gave him a lift, says Perrot.

All's well that ends well, says Gaius. Now Terence, we must be going.

Aw, says Alfonse.

Alfonse is my friend, says Terence. He has good ideas. See my orange peel? See these holes. We made them. They're for talking.

Are they indeed? says Gaius. And have they done any talking?

Not yet, says Claudine.

I had a call from Sweezus, says Gaius. 

When? asks Terence. 

Not long ago, says Gaius. He told me to tell you that he saw an elasmosaurus.

Wow! says Claudine, who knows all about plesiosaurs. They have really long necks.

Was it alive? asks Alfonse.

Of course it wasn't, says his sister.

Sweezus? says Perrot. Isn't he from Team Condor?

Not this year, says Gaius. He's with Team Philosophe.

The old guys? says Perrot. What a come down.

It appears it was that or nothing, says Gaius. Personally I would have chosen nothing, were I him, but who am I to say? I'm usually one of the old guys.

No way! says Perrot. Are you Gaius Secundus?

I go by that name, says Gaius.

So how are they doing? asks Perrot.

So so, says Gaius. I must say, things do move fast there.

I've noticed that too, says Perrot. I bet Stage Eight's finished already.

He takes out his phone, presses a few buttons.

Yes! cries Perrot. Nans Peters of Team AG2R La Mondiale is the winner! He soloed to victory at Loudenvielle! But alas! Thibaut Pinot has cracked because of pain in his back after crashing on Stage One. What a calamity! He was one of the favourites!

Chill out, dad, says Claudine.

Number One Golden Boy

 Millau.

Sweezus arrives at the start line smelling of Roquefort cheese.

Is that what I think it is ? asks Vello.

Yep, says Sweezus. Mini baguettes as well.

Superb, says Vello. I won't ask how you got them.

Well I will, says David. Did you break out of the bubble?

Sweezus turns to see if anyone is listening. No one is.

Bang! the race starts. It's really windy.

Le vent d'Autan.

Soon the peloton is divided, as usually happens with cross winds.

The scent of Roquefort floats on the breeze.

Fast forward to later. The final sprint in Lavaur.

Peter Sagan is...oops! his chain has come off in the final sprint. Curses!

But he still wins the green jersey.

Alaphilippe's foot unclips from his pedal. 

A bad day for some. Yates keeps the yellow.

After the race, Sweezus calls Arthur, who has finally reached the burnt regions.

Hey dude!

Hi, man, says Arthur. How'd you go?

Cross winds, says Sweezus. Enough said. But I got points from the boss.

What for? asks Arthur.

Cheese, says Sweezus. Millau has these caves where they make Roquefort. I snuck out and bought some. So I'm number one golden boy now.

Who else could be? asks Arthur.

Yeah, says Sweezus. I know. Where are you?

Burnt area, says Arthur. Black at the top and green at the bottom. 

Cool, says Sweezus. Want some sheepskin gloves?

Not really, says Arthur. Why? Have you got some?

Yeah, says Sweezus. They make them here. I bought some, but turns out they don't fit me.

You idiot, says Arthur. I miss you.

Me too, says Sweezus. Yeah well, I'm going to call Gaius now. See if he's found Terence.

He calls Gaius.

Hi, it's me. Found Terence?

I'm cycling across Emu Bay as we speak, says Gaius. I'm sure he'll be...

So that's a no, says Sweezus. 

Yes, says Gaius. But don't worry. Enjoying the Tour?

Yeah pretty much, says Sweezus. Tell Terence when you see him, that I saw an elasmosaurus.

Pull the other one, says Gaius. 

In the Millau museum, says Sweezus. It had the longest neck ever.

I know what they look like, says Gaius. Now I've just arrived at the playground. No one's here. 

Shit! Call me back when you find him, says Sweezus.

Of course I will, says Gaius. I wouldn't want to ruin your day.

Wisdom From The Mouth

 Gaius is alone in the fossil beds.

He waits for Porntip to come back.

She doesn't. She has not found Terence. The playground is deserted.

She flies down to the shore.

Saint Roley is poking about in the sand for molluscs.

Roley! says Porntip. Terence is missing!

Ey-uh! says Saint Roley. Ai!

No good squeaking, says Porntip.

He'll be with that family, says Saint Roley. We needn't worry.

Unless he isn't, says Porntip.

Eu-hoo, says Saint Roley.

I believe you're reverting to birdhood, says Porntip. I like it.

Perhaps it's not too late to make a nest after all.

....

Terence is with Perrot and his children in the picnic area, not far from the playground.

The children eat ham and cheese sandwiches, Perrot a meat pie. 

Terence explains why he's not eating.

I never do, says Terence.

A slight exaggeration.

Why do you have all that orange peel? asks Claudine. 

In case it gets feelings, says Terence.

How will you know if it does? asks Claudine.

Terence hasn't thought about this much.

My turnip pieces had feelings, says Terence. And they died.

So if the orange peel dies, you'll know, says Claudine. Too late though.

I know! says Alfonse. Make little holes in them.

What for? asks Terence.

Talking, says Alfonse.

Wisdom, from the mouth of a babe. 

......

Gaius tires of waiting for Porntip. 

He will have to do something himself.

He gets on his bike and cycles to the western end of Emu Bay.

It's hard going, on sand.

He thinks of Team Philosophe, who are currently, by his estimation, climbing the Col de la Lusette.

He imagines the scene.

Vello: We've got no chance. Take it easy.

David: I am.

Sweezus: I'll make a move shall I?

Vello: Go for it. You might realise your dream of being King of the Mountain.

Sweezus accelerates, and ....

So much for Gaius's sand-fuelled imagination.

In fact Alexey Lutsenko has already crested the Col.

A hard climb of 12 k and 7.3% incline.

Behind him is Jesús Herrada, unable to match him.

Alexey speeds to a solo victory at Mont Aigoual to loud cheering.

For years he has dreamed of this day.

A Secret Sorrow

 On Kangaroo Island, the afternoon wears on.

Gaius is thinking of leaving Emu Bay, and following Arthur and Louisa.

From the fossils, to the burnt regions.

He says so to Porntip.

But what about Terence? asks Porntip. Would you like me to find him?

That would be most kind, says Gaius. And may I say you make an excellent companion.

Thank you, says Porntip. I mask a secret sorrow.

What might that be? asks Gaius.

Nesting season, says Porntip, and no nest.

Commiserations, says Gaius.

Porntip flies off.

Gaius walks across to his back pack for an orange.

Curses! The oranges are gone.

His phone rings. It's Vello, in France.

Good afternoon, says Vello. Am I interrupting your lunch?

No, says Gaius. An orange would have been nice. But Arthur has them.

I sympathise, says Vello. If only Belle were here. We would be swimming in treats. Did you know that Privas, where the Tour finished today, is famous for its chestnut cream?

No I didn't says Gaius. Couldn't you go out and buy some?

No! says Vello. Because of this blasted bubble!

Dear me, says Gaius. And how's Team Philosophe doing racewise?

So so, says Vello. Sweezus's heart's not in it.

I'm not surprised, says Gaius. Is yours?

No, says Vello. You know me. I like intrigue and shenanigans.

But surely, says Gaius, there's scope for intrigue and shenanigans.

I generally rely on some young accomplice of Terence to upset things, says Vello. Such as Baby Pierre with his fluoroelastane wheels, remember? 

Gaius does remember. There were various accidents in previous years. Unattributed.

Alaphilippe lost the yellow jersey today, says Vello. 

I didn't know he had it, says Gaius.

Well, he did, says Vello. But he was docked twenty seconds for taking a drink in the last twenty kilometres. Now Yates has it.

What a way to get it, says Gaius.

What a way, agrees Vello. Well, better go. Sorry to hear about the orange.

Sorry to hear about the chestnut cream, says Gaius.

The call ends, on this note elegaic.

Is It Night? Sorry.

 Stage Three is over

Caleb Ewan has won.

Alaphilippe has retained the yellow jersey. (Must be those tubed clinchers).

Sweezus calls Gaius from France.

Yes? says Gaius.

Is Terence with you?

Not at the moment, says Gaius. He’s at a playground.

Who with? asks Sweezus.

Saint Roley, says Gaius. Why do you want him?

Just thought I’d tell him how the Tour’s going, says Sweezus.

How IS it going? asks Gaius.

Not the same, says Sweezus.

Should I tell Terence that? asks Gaius.

Nah, says Sweezus.

What then? asks Gaius. Make it snappy.

This is because it is an inconvenient time to be talking, due to the time difference.

Tell him everyone here looks like a burglar, says Sweezus.

He’ll like that, says Gaius. Anything else I should tell him?

Tell him I’ll bring him back a present, says Sweezus.

Very good, says Gaius. I’ll tell him. Good night.

Fuck, says Sweezus. Is it night there? Sorry.

Yes it is night. And Gaius has realised that Terence should be back from the playground.

What a nuisance.

And it’s a nuisance for us all as well.

What if we agree that, for the time being..... time’s moving faster in France.

It’s still afternoon on Kangaroo Island.

So Terence is not late back from the playground.

Gaius is still searching for fossils with Porntip. The sun shines on the lichen. She's happy.

Arthur and Louisa have not yet reached the burnt regions.

A baby Glossy Black Cockatoo has fallen out of the sheoak.

Its parents are frantic. Wark!

But at least they can see him.

 At the same time in France, it’s three or four days in the future, (and counting).

Look at it this way. We’re now three or four days behind.