What You Don't Know

We had breakfast at the West Beach Surf Life Saving Club yesterday morning. I ordered muesli with banana.

Ten minutes later a girl came up to our table with a piece of paper. I'm sorry, she said, but we don't have any bananas. Would you like yogurt or berries instead?

I'd like berries, I said.

The berries were mixed, and red. My breakfast looked so beautiful I took a photograph. But when I got home the photograph was out of focus.

After our breakfast we went to the Broadway Kiosk for a cup of tea. I took some more photos in there. My favourite is looking out through the glass door towards Glenelg. I came so close to uploading it here for you to see. But I didn't know how. Correction, I knew how, but I couldn't locate the photo.

The reason I like it is this. There is a man standing outside with his arms folded, and his head turned so that he's looking directly at the toilets. He looks rather pained and disbelieving. So the photo reminds me of my experience in the toilets, a few minutes before the photo was taken, although it had nothing to do with the man.

These are automatic toilets. You press a button, the door opens, you go in, you press a button, the door closes, and a voice says YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES TO COMPLETE YOUR MISSION, then music begins to play. I won't tell you the whole story. Everything works with buttons, that's all. And some of them are in the wrong place. And if you don't complete your mission in the correct order, the toilet won't flush. Maybe they won't even let you out.

That's what you don't know.

Chronic Ills

What's the matter? asked Le Bon David, seeing his friend doubled over in pain.

Those damned seats at the Bakehouse Theatre, groaned the VeloDrone. There was a crucial piece missing from mine.

Dear me, said Le Bon David. That must have detracted from the performance. What did you see?

The Chronic Ills of Robert Zimmerman AKA Bob Dylan - A Lie, said The VeloDrone.

Good heavens, what a title! said Le Bon David. And did you manage to enjoy it?

Let me just say that it was undoubtedly brilliant, replied The VeloDrone, and that I nevertheless failed to enjoy it. Would you like to hear my review?

Certainly, said Le Bon David.

The VeloDrone began to read:

This show, presented at the Bakehouse Theatre by the Tamarama Rock Surfers, was a sellout show in Sydney. An absurdo-surrealist rhythmic re-imagining of the life and weird times of folk-rock icon Bob Dylan, it's a not to be missed musical adventure full of legend, myth, bible, ghosts, Koran, chaos, watermelons, everything......

Tell me if I'm wrong, said Le Bon David, but haven't you lifted that directly from the program notes?

What if I have? said The VeloDrone crossly. I know nothing about Bob Dylan, or Robert Zimmerman. My seat was uncomfortable. Furthermore, I was distracted by the woman I was sitting next to. I believe she's been stalking me.

Stalking you! So you'd seen her before?

Yes. Remember me telling you about the Broadway Kiosk yesterday? Those three women?

The three generations? Yes I remember. You said one of them kept looking at you so you hid behind a newspaper. Was it her?

I think so.

Fear not my friend. I've heard it happens all the time in Adelaide.

Stalking?

No, no. Bumping into the same people repeatedly.

You Australians

The VeloDrone, intrigued by his colleague's depiction of Australians, decided to take the day off, and observe them for himself.

He bicycled down to the Broadway Kiosk and sat under an umbrella drinking iced coffee, reading a newspaper and enjoying the view of the sea.

There were three women at the next table, also under an umbrella. They appeared to be three generations of the same family. The daughter had arrived on a bicycle, the mother and grandmother had got out of a car.

They were talking about politics in an animated manner. How interesting! thought the VeloDrone, they are talking about politics! He returned to his newspaper.

Now the women were eating. The grandmother was eating a pumpkin salad, the mother a Mediterranean doorstop and the daughter a warm chicken salad. They were drinking iced coffee and iced chocolate, through blue plastic straws. That too is interesting, thought The VeloDrone.

They began to speak of the great grandmother, who had died many years ago. How did she die? asked the daughter. She had been shopping with me, said the grandmother. She had bought an entire new outfit, a jacket, skirt, a hat and some shoes, She was very pleased with them. I dropped her off at her flat and then went home myself. Minutes later I had a phone call from my father to say that she had gone upstairs to visit a neighbour, sat down in a chair and died. There was a silence. That was a good way to go, said the mother. Yes, the other two agreed. There was another silence. What did you do with the clothes? asked the daughter.

The VeloDrone wished he were sitting a little further away, in case they noticed his expression, but they did not. I kept them for a long time, said the grandmother, but they weren't really my sort of clothes. Eventually I must have got rid of them.

At last the three women got up to go. The VeloDrone buried his nose in his newspaper as they passed his table. Had he learned anything about Australians, or not? He wasn't even sure they were proper Australians. He resolved not to jump to conclusions.