Existence Deconstructed

I believe I understand, said Pliny the Elder, why you held back from offering help to your mother when she was planting her petunias.

You do? I said, surprised.

I do, said Pliny. You did not wish to spoil her pleasure in a small task she enjoys. You did not wish to interfere, or to diminish her dignity as a person.

That is partly true, Pliny, I agreed. The other reason is that I dislike petunias.

Oh! said Pliny, that is a great deal less admirable, Why do you dislike them?

I don't know. Probably because she likes them so much.

Well! said Pliny. Perhaps I should delve no further into this.

Perhaps you shouldn't, I agreed. But tell me, what did you think of my existential companion piece, on the petrol vouchers and gold bottle top?

I did not quite know what to make of it, said Pliny. It was as if you thought what happened was in some way representative of human existence. But any other person would have put down the unwanted petrol vouchers and the bottle top at once.

Where, for example? I challenged.

You were in the car, were you not? I know that car. There are many little nooks and crannies where one might temporarily deposit a small piece of rubbish. The drink holder, the glove box, the space under the radio, said Pliny.

Go on, I said.

That space behind the door handle, the back seat, the floor, continued Pliny, warming up.

You are correct Pliny, I said. Another person may have put the rubbish in any one of those places. And remembered, or not remembered, to take the rubbish inside when they got home. But there is a key to every person. And these two pieces on existence were the key to me.

Aha! said Pliny suddenly, after thinking for a moment. I have it! Inaction!

Existence Continued

And take the day before. I was at my mum's. She was planting out some new lobelias and petunias that she'd bought. I was watching her.

She was planting the lobelias in a wide shallow bowl. She made six indentations in the dirt with a trowel. This was the first time it occurred to me to ask if I could help.

I didn't ask. She squeezed the lobelias from the plastic punnet one by one and set them in the holes. Then she pressed the earth around them tightly till they stood up by themselves.

She made six more holes for six petunias. She'd been bent over that bowl for quite some time. She's eighty three. This was the second time it occurred to me to ask if I could help.

I didn't ask, but stood over her drinking my cup of tea. Hers was inside somewhere getting cold. I wondered if she'd started feeling dizzy.

She pressed the six petunias into place. There was one more punnet of petunias left to plant. She'd already made four holes in the centre of the bowl, before it occurred to me that I might ask if I could help. I didn't ask. There, that's all there's room for, she said, pressing in four of the last six plants. She straightened up.

That does look nice, I said. Yes, she said, now let's just hope it rains. Would you mind getting that watering can from over there. There might still be some water in it, and you could water them in.

Making Pliny Wait

Pliny has caught a bus and a tram to Glenelg on a day that is windy but fine. She wonders if she will be late. Just as we are about to find out we are interrupted by Pliny the Elder who wants to talk about magpies. He is persuaded to wait until the story is finished.


Pliny is 5 minutes late. This is negligible, when you have caught a bus and a tram. In fact it is quite good. She sees her mum waiting on a seat, dressed in blue. They sit together on the seat in the shade watching children run in and out of the water spouts under the palm trees, It is windy but no windier than it was in the city. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, there are red and white petunias in flower beds either side of the Governor Hindmarsh monument beyond which they can see the jetty, a sage green sea and a jumping machine that has been erected for the children during the summer holidays, which are drawing to a close. There are people everywhere. It is exceedingly gay.

Telescoping some events, it is now time for Pliny to catch the tram home. She gets on at quarter to 3 . She knows she will need to purchase a new ticket, but she is happy because she has until 3 o'clock before the ticket price goes up. She looks around; the tram is full. There is one vacant seat next to a really scary looking man, but like everyone else she elects to stand up. But where is the conductor? The tram moves off. It is 10 to 3. Then she remembers that travel is free along Jetty Road. Curses, she thinks, that means the conductor will probably get on at Brighton Road and I will have to pay peak rates for a ticket. She feels anxious, as her watch ticks towards 3, faster than the tram is moving.

It is 3 o'clock. No conductor has materialised. The woman in the blue shirt sitting near the front was not a conductor, nor was the uniformed man riding in the cabin with the driver. Pliny is resigned now to paying an extra $1.50 for her ticket. So what? she thinks , it is only $1.50, although for that I would have liked a seat.

There are 17 stops to the edge of the city square. They are now at stop 11. Pliny is wondering if she will ever see a conductor. Is it possible, she asks herself, that there will not be a conductor on this tram at any stage of the journey? Is it possible that the only people on this tram that have paid are the ones who had a prepaid ticket, or a ticket that is less than 2 hours old? Pliny is now feeling ambivalent. She really wants to purchase a ticket, because she believes in public transport. On the other hand, she really likes the idea of getting a free ride, especially now that she is nearly there. If she pays now, (they are passing stop 6), she will be paying the full price for a very short journey indeed.

The tram reaches the edge of the city square. All tram travel is now free. Pliny and an unspecified number of people on the tram have had a free ride. Pliny wonders how often this happens, and feels outraged. She fantasises about sending the fare by post to Adelaide Metro, with a covering note.

Pliny gets off the tram in Victoria Square. The wind is blowing in mighty gusts towards the Central Market which is where she wants to go. She waits at the lights for the tram to move off. The wind nearly blows her into its path.