The Washup

How did you enjoy the Clipsal? I asked Pliny, when I saw him in the morning.

I found it quite edifying, said Pliny. I learned, for example, that at the Clipsal a red jacket is not just a red jacket, but dictates the man you are. I became, inadvertently, a Holden man, and what is more, a bogan.

You should have asked me, I knew that, I said. Wherever did you get that jacket from?

EBay, said Pliny. $8.95, Buy It Now. It was a ladies size 14, but I didn't think that mattered. It was a cheerful colour, and it kept me warm and dry.

You are certainly no bogan, Pliny, I said, affectionately. You are a something of a quiz.

I don't mind being called a bogan, said Pliny. The Premier said that bogans were the salt of the earth.

He would say that, he'd like them all to vote for him, I said. So you met the Premier? Who else?

I met Leo Sayer, a singer from the old days, I believe, and Murray Walker, the famous motor racing commentator. He was sitting at the table next to mine.

Wow, Pliny! Murray Walker. What was he like?

A little odd. He commentated on everything he ate.

You mean he commented?

No, he commentated. As if eating were a racing event. "And now here come the oysters up to the plate...."

How hilarious! Well, I'm glad you had a good time, Pliny.

I did. And what did you get up to on the weekend?

I went to a 40th birthday barbecue at the St Peters Billabong, on Saturday. It was lovely
there.

What a coincidence! I believe I passed your barbecue early in the morning. Did you have egg and bacon roll?

No, they were up to the chops, sausages, chicken wings and rissoles when we got there.

Well, said Pliny. Would you like some now?

Some what?

Some egg and bacon roll. I still have a large quantity of it in my pocket.

No thanks. And now Pliny, brace yourself, I have to tell you something tragic.

Pliny turned pale.

Sand; Ampersand; Pearl

1. Sand.

We went to the beach twice on the weekend. On Saturday we went to Tennyson. The sand was white and soft and hot. I took off my shoes. The sand was already inside.

The sand was broken and in disarray. A horse had galloped over it. There is a special way of telling that. It is by the marks of the horse's shoes.

The sand was ugly. It looked as though a battle had been fought there. Smashed and bashed.

Heaps of seaweed had fetched up on the sand at regular intervals. Each heap looked like something. A lobster, a duck, a fish, a giant bee, laid flat out.

Under the water the sand was squelchy and sucked at our feet.


2. Ampersand.

On Sunday we were at Brighton. It was a very hot afternoon. The tide was coming in; there was not much sand to stand on, near the rocks north of the jetty.

A party of people stood between the rocks and the sea at the end of a ramp. They looked peculiar. They stood in an informal arrow formation. At the apex, an old lady in a wheelchair, shaded by a yellow and brown fringed parasol. We thought it might be a wedding. A funny wedding.

We went down the steps to the beach south of the jetty. Here there was plenty of sand. The sand was soft and white and hot. I took off my shoes but the sand was already inside.

We finished our walk. I put on my shoes. It was half past four.

Grandma, the wheelchair and parasol had gone. The rest of the party were still there, laughing. I knew that it wasn't a wedding.

At eight thirty we were driving home in the car. I was aware of the sand. The irritating sand. I thought that when I got home there might be pearls between my toes, although toes are not oysters.


3. Pearl.

That is not to say the human body is incapable of producing a pearl. I know that it is. Once, one came out of my leg. To be truthful it wasn't really a pearl. More like a perfectly round tiny grey stone.

Had it been a real pearl, I'd have kept it.

Hot Laksa Soup

I liked The VeloDrone, said Pliny this morning. And now I know why we cohabit with a bicycle.

Oh, had you been wondering? I asked.

On and off, said Pliny. And how are you this morning? Last night you looked a little worse for wear.

I'm alright. We went to meet my sister at the airport, and then went to a noisy restaurant to eat. I was speaking more loudly than normal and eating a hot laksa soup. Whereas now I know I should have kept my mouth shut and had the non-spicy wok-tossed noodles.

How would you have eaten them with your mouth shut?

It's perfectly possible to eat noodles with your mouth shut. But you know what I mean. Anyway I was fine till I got home and then my flu caught up with me and I got the shakes. It was horrible. I thought I was getting pneumonia.

Oh dear. And your other sister is arriving today from Coffin Bay, isn't she?

Yes, but I'm okay again now. And she's promised to bring us some oysters.

Delightful! Are you eating at home tonight?

Yes. And tomorrow we're all going to the Greek on Halifax for my birthday dinner.

Yes, your famous birthday. How old are you going to be?

I don't know. First I need to sit down and review my life. But I don't know when I'll find the time to do it.

Sadness of the Unenlightened Oyster

Pliny the Elder has presented me with a poem about Oyster Therapy:


Ostreae aquam dulcem fluvium amant
Parvae et rarae in mare
Optime in luce aestatis crescent
Non illuminatae lente tristitiae

This translates as:

Oysters love the fresh water of streams falling into the sea
In the open sea they are small and rare
They grow best in the summer where sunlight reaches them
If they cannot be reached by the sun's rays they grow slowly
And eat very little for sadness.

( Isn't Latin wonderfully concise !)


Thanks, Pliny, I will write you one tomorrow.

Oyster Therapy

Pliny is on a bus, facing the back. Her legs are sticking out into the aisle. She sees her socks and thinks that yellow and orange stripes don't go well with purple grey and blue. It is too late to do anything about this though. She looks out of the window at the shops passing by.

The bus stops. Pliny sees a shop called Divine Wellness, offering Pure Oyster Therapy. Pliny looks again. It isn't Pure Oyster Therapy, but Pure Oxygen Therapy. Pliny blames her eyes, and a careless way of reading.

She thinks she would prefer Oyster Therapy any day.