A Bad Night for Fishing

Lavender had been walking for ages when she came at last to Henley Square. It was late and all the restaurants were closed. There was a faint light coming from the jetty. She walked towards the light.

The light was from a fisherman's torch. Lavender could see a plastic bucket glowing in the torchlight, and she could see things moving in the bucket.

Hello, said Lavender to the fisherman. Have you....?

Caught anything? said the fisherman. No I havent. It's a bad night for fishing.

I wasn't going to ask you that, said Lavender. I was going to ask you if you'd seen any jellyfish in the water tonight. I'm looking for an Immortal Jellyfish in particular.

By Jingo! said the fisherman. You're an interesting specimen! Let me look at you.

Arrgggh! You creepy old man! cried Lavender, turning to run.

No wait, said the fisherman. I meant you are an interesting example of an impression in stone of a fossilised auger or screwpile shell and a member of the Turritellidae family. Stay here and chat with me a while.

Lavender was disarmed. She sat down beside the knowledgeable fisherman.

What is your interest in the Immortal Jellyfish? asked the fisherman.

I want to find it first, before Baby Pierre and Ageless find it, said Lavender.

I suppose that's as good a reason as any, said the fisherman. Why do they want to find it?

Baby Pierre wants to find it because he thought Ageless would like it, and Ageless wants to find it because Baby Pierre asked him to come on a quest. It's my quest too.

This Ageless, said the fisherman, is he a fossil, or a stone?

No silly, he's a lobster, said Lavender. A member of the Seafood family. He's ageless but he's not immortal. That's why Baby Pierre wants him to find it.

Does he want to be immortal? asked the fisherman. Some people think that drinking a concoction of immortal jellyfish will make them immortal, but that shows a distinct lack of scientfic logic.

Oh no, he doesn't want to DRINK it! said Lavender, shocked. He wants to meet it, that's all.

Very commendable, said the fisherman. Well, I can't help you, but I know who can.

Ooh! Who? said Lavender, excited.

Go back to the Esplanade. There's a veritable Parthenon of Sea Oracles there amongst the rocks. Oracular Seagulls, Crabs, Cuttlefish, Pelicans, you name it. Somewhere opposite house number, ummm, 291 I think, you'll find the Oracular Jellyfish. He'll know something.

Did you say 291? asked Lavender. Now I know I'm on the right track. That's Ageless's age, in the morning. Thanks fisherman.

Call me Gaius, said the fisherman, softly.

But Lavender wasn't listening. She was off.

Hallam's Walk

Hallam walked along Tennyson Beach. He liked to do it, every decade or so. Today he was in a red top and cut-off jeans. More comfortable than my Governor General outfit, he thought.

He looked out towards the horizon. Astonishingly, there was no horizon, today. The sea was one with the clouds which were pearly and gelatinous, all heaving gently. My dad would write a poem about this he thought, sourly. Or a saga, more like.

The sky above was a brilliant blue and the sun was warm. He felt sweaty even in his summer top. And he needed his cap, because the sun was at a low afternoon angle.

He sniffed the air. Pooh, he thought, iodine. Or is it ozone? No, ozone doesnt have a smell. It'll be this seaweed. He stared at the heaps of brown seaweed, sculpted into hillocks, cliffs and troll-like creatures by the tide.

The sea slopped up to the seaweed, warmly. Seagulls bobbed in the shallows facing away from the sun. They didn't appear to be doing anything other than bobbing. He wondered why they had chosen to bob there.

He didn't know much about seagulls. He saw a pelican flying low over the water, into the sun.
He didn't know much about pelicans either. I bet my dad did, he thought. I wish I'd been allowed to finish at Cambridge, instead of having to give up my studies to be his secretary. He sighed.

Still it was a nice day, and he had done pretty well for himself really. Governor of South Australia and then Governor General of Australia for a year after that. He decided to treat himself to a Farmers Union Iced Coffee at Noonies.

Pliny's Holiday (end part)

I soon cheered up when we arrived once more at Moonta Bay. My companions decided to walk as far around the bay as the lighthouse, which looked like a very long walk indeed. You go, I said, and I shall potter here upon the sand. The tide was in but there were little islands of red-tipped samphire on which birds were standing. And I wished to make an inventory of shells.

I soon had a small collection of delightful molluscs. Because it was a holiday I had decided on a theme, and only picked up shells of reddish-pink, with the exception of two mussel shells that were bluish-purple, and a small orange winkle. The reddish-pink shells were gastropods of the type called Painted Lady, and bore designs of such intricate beauty one could scarce believe they were not painted with a brush.

Next I turned my attention to the birds. The birds seemed unafraid of me, and allowed me to approach them on their pretty islands. I identified gulls, sandpipers, pelicans, and sooty black oystercatchers with bright orange beaks. But the tide was rapidly going out, and they soon flew away.

My companions returned at last, claiming to have almost reached the lighthouse, which I did not think possible in the two hours they had taken, but of course it does depend on what they meant by almost. Together we ascended the metal steps to the top of the low seawall, and were surprised to hear a kind of natural music coming from them, created by the wind.

And now it was time to head for home. I should like to stay in Moonta Bay, I said to my companions. I believe I could find enough to do here to fill my days. But they looked very dubious, and pointed out that what seemed charming on a holiday might soon become tedious as a way of life. And so we set off to buy some lunch.

On the way home we saw a great fire billowing black and white smoke into the air at Paskeville, and people running to try and put it out.

At Cavan the salt heaps floated upside down in water that was tinted rosy pink.

And here I fell asleep.

The Wondrous Blue

Well, said Pliny the Elder, there you have me at a disadvantage, as I never know what you are going to say.

That is a point well made, Pliny, said I, but you know, I never know what I am going to say either.

That does not surprise me, said Pliny the Elder.

But, I continued, that is not quite true today, for I have several topics lined up waiting to be explored. First, the interesting fact that at Port Noarlunga the other day I noticed an new shade of blue I'd never seen before, shimmering above the surface of the shallows.

And what are the other topics? asked Pliny the Elder.

Pliny! I cried. Pelicans if you must know, and possibly seals, but don't you want to know more about the wondrous shade of blue?

If it truly was wondrous, yes, he answered.

It was when I lifted up my sunglasses, I continued. I often do that at the seaside because my current sunglasses give everything a pinkish tint, in which it is all too easy to believe. I was astounded to see flat panes of blinding fluorescent blue on the surface of the shallow water in front of me. It was the exact blue of the sky, I realised at once, but until that day I had always perceived that same reflection as silver. If I tried I could still see it as silver. Or the colour of the sand underneath. But really it was this astonishing blue. I'm sure I never would have noticed it if my sunnies weren't tinted pink.

Wondrous, said Pliny. And the pelicans?

No Pliny, I said, I don't like to address more than one topic at a time. No one likes discursiveness.

Do they not? asked Pliny the Elder, looking doubtful.