Good Remembering

It's not last Saturday but the Saturday before. Can I really go back that far in time and remember it well?

It's very hot and we've driven all the way down to Semaphore. We've crossed the road and the beachfront carpark, walked down the track through the sand dunes and onto the beach.

There are people there, it is still hot even at the beach. We walk into the sea taking our shoes off first. Now this is the part I want to remember.

We're standing in the water. It's sunny and above us the sky is blue. Yellow electrical patterns crisscross the warm tea green sea. Clouds build in the northern quarter of the sky. They're roiling and boiling, they're cumulus, nimbus, cirrus and stratus all tumbling together, advancing as fast as a bus. Not a fast bus.

They'll soon be directly overhead.

It's nice in the water. We are up to our waists, no, not quite, looking towards the horizon.

The horizon is playing an optical trick, either that or the sea level has dropped.

We look at the puzzling line. Ships move along it, it fritters away at one end. We discuss these things.

When next we look up, the approaching clouds in the northern quarter of the sky have stopped moving. In fact they look to me like they have started moving backwards. This is puzzling too.

Yes, good remembering by me.

Outrageous Ticks

Yes it was delightful at the farm. You could sit on the verandah and look out over the peaceful valley all day long if you had no plans. That is what old Fred used to do, counting the cows, until he died at the age of 96. Or so I heard.

The view takes you like this: you share a wooden bench with another person, looking out. You say nothing for a long time. Then you say, I think the clouds are moving a little more slowly this afternoon than they were this morning. The other person looks towards the clouds and, after some time has elapsed, agrees that yes, they are.

You might think that says it all, about the farm.

I did, until I realised that I had acquired two ticks. Or perhaps I should say that the ticks had acquired me.

At first I thought I had a mozzie bite and that was bad enough. But the itchy spot was suspiciously round and black. I tried to squeeze it out. This is hard when you are on holiday and have been denied the luxury of tweezers, by the airline you have used.

Out popped the round black dot, from the tender white skin of thankfully-not-too-embarrassingly-far-up my inner thigh. I looked at it. It had legs. I squeezed it. It would not die. I didn't know what to do with it; it seemed wrong to let it loose. Then I saw I had another one.

I wrapped the two ticks in a tissue, clutched it tight and paced about the room.

Rain Stream of Consciousness

It has rained nearly all day I woke up this morning pretty early and I heard a noise. At first I thought it wasn't rain but then I realised it was my eyes were shut they were stuck fast and I couldn't see the time on the radio clock. The later it was the more I didn't want it to be raining but I didn't know what time it was. It didn't matter what time it was then because later on when it was time to get up it was still raining.

It rained all morning and after lunch we wanted to go to the shops but it was raining although not very much we got ready to go but then I said no I don't want to go if it is raining. So we didn't go but ten minutes later ah! it stopped raining and the sun didn't exactly come out straight away but you could see that it was trying, if it makes sense to say that the sun can try.

So we were walking to the shops and it wasn't raining, it wasn't too bad and there were puddles on the ground and you could see reflections of the sky in the puddles they were of white clouds and blue streaks which were the blue bits of the sky. It was like these were the windows into another world underneath where we were walking and they had clouds and blue sky there as well but of course they were upside down and shiny like a mirror.

All the time we were out it wasn't raining but guess what when we got home it started raining straight away. That 's lucky I thought and then I thought it wasn't lucky there's nothing lucky about being inside when it's raining you're just inside that's all and some unlucky people might still be outside so you shouldn't gloat. And anyway I had to take out the bins and it was raining although it was lucky in a way because it wasn't raining hard.

After, and Before

After the Rubber Band Debate we decided to go for a walk. I remember thinking, during the walk, that if the Tour de France was over, I would be paying more attention to my surroundings.

That is not to say I was thinking about the Tour De France.

I was coasting, observing nothing properly.

How lucky I was to have had that thought. For, from the moment that I thought it, I began to observe things properly again, but in a different way.

That was last Saturday. Let us see how long the proper memory has lasted.

We left mum sitting on a seat. No, that's wrong, we left her just about to sit down on a seat. She probably sat down on it after that. But by then we were walking south along the footpath towards Seacliff.

The sea was on our right, slopping and gleaming like molten steel in a bowl. Then the sand heaps, ugly. Then the dunes and struggling grasses. Then the gnarled and twisted bushes, the decrepit fence, the footpath, and us walking on it, towards Seacliff.

We were talking about something in Latin. That is not to say we were speaking Latin. We can't do that. We were talking about a word, errato, and whether it existed....

After that we fell silent. There was a sound, probably of the sea, slopping. What else could it have been? And another sound, probably of rustling bushes, or a bouncing car. Whatever the sounds, they were enough to make me think about listening, so then I heard another car, and several birds.

On the way back, northwards, towards Hove, we seemed to be somehow tilted towards the sky. I suppose the path must go uphill very slightly. In any case, I remember looking at the clouds which looked like solid lumps of dirty yellow wadding. Far away above the horizon a slash of blue sky promised the sun, by means of a triangulation of sunbeams. But minutes before it appeared, we had to turn up Smith Street.

Part of a Longer Walk

.....a bend in the Linear Park Trail. Here the river widens out and becomes coastal. The water reflects the flat sky. Horses graze on the grass plain right down to the water's edge, wearing coats which are green, purple, navy and sky blue.

Under the last bridge is a seascape and boat. We're walking towards the sea.

The sun is a hazy white disc behind grey knitted clouds. The river is brown with white patches. Pacific black ducks, ibis, herons and grebes appear and disappear. If the river is heading for the sea you wouldn't know it. The wind blows its ripples back the other way.

A bicycle comes up behind us. Ding. We meet people with dogs.

It's a Dutch landscape although I've never been to Holland. I have always thought this, about here.

We cross the road to the sand hills. We look left and right. We are looking for jetties. Jetties mean kiosks and kiosks mean snacks. But the jetties are too far away.

The sand is white, littered with weed. At the edge of the sea it dips suddenly and the sea is foreshortened and deep. It looks like a theatre set, with the waves moving sideways on pulleys.

We turn south. A seaweed ball follows us, blown by the wind. I turn around quickly and it stops.

My Cat Day

I am not a cat person but I have had a cat day. I blame this on yesterday, and Li Feng's cats.

How to have a cat day:

See a cat : Well, I have done that. I saw a cat on the way to the shops. It was a tabby cat. I didn't know it was a tabby cat. When I got home I googled Tabby Cat and found a picture of a tabby cat and, sure enough! it was a tabby that I had seen. It said miaow and ran away, into a garden.

See another cat: I have done that too. I am now going to break a serious rule. It's my rule, so I can break it. The rule is: never write about the shapes you see in clouds. Okay so now you can guess that I probably saw a cloud shaped like cat. Well, yes and no. I saw a cloud. It was vaguely round, with protuberances. So it could have been a cat's head.

See another cat: I have done that. I was looking for this one. I knew it was there, you see. And I knew I was having a cat day too. That's why I was looking. It was on the counter of the Cherry Blossom Sushi Bar in Foodland Mall. At first I couldn't see it. I was doing that thing where you keep walking at a constant speed but you turn your head slowly backwards, if you know what I mean. I almost didn't see the cat. Then I did. A gold ceramic Maneki Neko cat beckoning the customers with its left paw. I looked at it long enough to determine which paw. At the time I didn't even know that was important.

Differences

We've just been to the Central Market. We're walking down Flinders Street on our way back to the car.

Nostradamus is carrying the pineapple, the potatoes, an onion and a large bag of oranges, in two bags, a green one and a yellow one. Pliny is carrying tomatoes, broccoli, a red pepper, pears, apples and grapes, in a blue bag.

The sun is shining but it's cold in the long shadows of the tall city buildings. The sky is blue and full of fast moving clouds.

Through the glass windows of a gym Pliny sees men doing laps in the pool. On the road just out from the footpath she sees a pigeon strutting in the opposite direction on bright orange legs.

You are lucky, says Pliny to the pigeon. You never have to carry any shopping.

You are lucky, says the pigeon. You have a great deal of food.

You are luckier, says Pliny. You can fly up into those clouds which are the best clouds I have seen in a long time. The lower ones are cotton woolly, puffy and fast. The upper ones are like tiny ripples on the surface of a pond, and appear not to be moving at all.

Its cold up there, says the pigeon. And if I could go anywhere I would rather be inside the gym.

Whart!

1.

What, asked Pliny the Elder, is the colour of whales?

I know what you're referring to, I answered. The answer is, the sky.

Do not be flippant, said Pliny reprovingly. Surely you meant the clouds.

The clouds are a part of the sky. They were a greyish blackish sort of blue, I said. Or a bluish blackish sort of white.

A nebulous answer, he said crossly.

2.

What is the colour of whales? asked Pliny the Elder.

Whart is the colour of whales, I replied.

Whart?

I looked it up on WikiAnswers, and that's what it is.

3.

Whart, asked Pliny the Elder, is the colour of whales?

Is it? I asked.

No, he said. I'm asking.

I don't think it is, I said.

What is it then?

Grey and black and white and blue.

Like bird droppings, he said.

Duality of Light 2

They sat down in front of the 3 screens on the bench the 3 women had vacated. The images on the screens were almost identical. Mountain tops enveloped in slow moving clouds. They knew at once the clouds were moving, from the experience of the tree.

I'm sure, said Pliny's mum, that when I turned around earlier I saw a bright red flower on one of these screens. One by one the images changed. Snow covered mountains, and in the foreground, frozen images of a woman covered head to toe in a fine white veil. Through a series of stills the veil changed shape in the wind, mirroring the folds of snow on the far off mountains. In the last, the woman had turned to reveal her face. She wore the expression of someone hearing a gunshot. Then, the brilliant red poppies in closeup. There they are! said Pliny's mum.

They took the lift up to the next level. Here were 2 white pedestals next to a doorway. Take a bowl and enter, said a sign on the wall. Someone, it appeared, already had, so they sat down to wait. By the laughter escaping from the doorway they guessed it was the Japanese party. After some time the Japanese party came out, apologised and replaced the bowls.

Pliny and her mum went in, carrying the white bowls. The room was dark except for 4 bowl-sized pools of light on the floor, projected from overhead. If you held your bowl under a light it filled with luminescent moving images of microscopic marine life and telescopic astronomical imagery in brilliant kaleidoscopic colours. If you tilted the bowl the glowing images spilled out over your hands and arms. It was amazing. transporting, delightful.

They should have left, after that. Instead they went back to the tunnel.