Moulting

dear kobo i am sorry,,,,

i am sorry dear kobo i did not mean to be offensive we lobsters are like that,,, offensive,,, but i did not mean to be,,,,,

thank you for,,, clik clik,,, writing to me about the sand,,,,, does the man escape up the rope ladder and what happens to the sand they shovel up,,,,,where does it go?,,,,,do tell me more about the man and the woman i think of you and me being trapped together in a hole,,,i would not mind being trapped in a hole of sand with you kobo,,,,,,

but you might not like that,,,sorry,,,,,

and now clik clik i must tell you about the moulting it will not please you,,,,,kobo,,,oh,,, i will very soon be moulting,,,,,it is nearly clik clik time,,,,,

my flesh will shrink to a quarter of its size,,,oh oh,,, my shell will clik clik crack i will drag myself out,,,, if i am unlucky my claw muscles will get stuck,,,,,,and i will have to let them go,,,,,you see what this means kobo i will not be able to write to you for quite a while,,,,,,,

i'll soak up seawater to gain weight,,,,, i'll eat my shell,,,,it gives me calcium,,,,i'll be soft,,,soft,,,like a rubber toy,,,,,

well now i have told you kobo,,, i have started shrinking kobo,,,,,

tell me what happens next,,,,,,put cobbles in it,,,sorry,,,please,,,,,,

your ageless x

The Rope Ladder

ageless!

you are not mmy boyfriend ! and you will not be mmy boyfriend if you write about such things as mmmating indeed. mating. ugh. you go too far too fast mmmy ageless dear

i am a clam we do not mmate like that we do not touch one another that is why my sensibilites are offended by those things you tell me about mmating

nevertheless i am interested in mmoulting i wish i could mmoult i amm too long inside this hard and heavy shell if i could get out, if it would break open, i would be free to grow a new and pretty shell mmade of shell with little holes that let in all the light

tell me mmore about your mmmmoulting, ageless dear

and i will tell you mmore about the sand now,

....the womman's house is half buried under sand, sand falls on the roof at night the sand pours down in streams it gets into the water jug the cooking pots it sticks to the perspiring bodies of the mman and the womman, at night they dig the sand away the walls are soft like wet biscuit, in the mmorning they sleep, they place towels over their faces or the sand will get into their eyes and mmouths and noses it does anyway, the rope ladder has been taken away, the mman cannot escape, he forms a plan....

do you like it ageless ?

till next time,

kobo clamm x

The Fossilised Clam Begs to Differ

mmmmmso that's what he thinks does he. ppprp. he'd rather be a fossilised clammmmm, well i'm a fossilised clam.

let me tell you a bit about life as a fossilised clam mister lobster, it is hard and long and dull the life of a fossilised clammm.

i was once a fresh soft squishy clammm although i hardly rememmmmber. i lived inside my clammm shell it was made of clammshell. it was light.

i rolled around contentedly on the ocean floor doing what clammmmms do i can't even remmmmember what that was but i know things used to happen.

and then one day i found myself emmmbedded in a bed of silt i couldn't get free of the silt it was so heavy it got heavier and heavier. over centuries and eons it turned to stone under the sea.

i was really bored you just try it sommmmetimmmme mister lobster.

my shell protected me but i had zilch to eat. ppprp. and i couldn't mmmove.

it was a very long time before i noticed something happening to my shell bit by bit it was mmmmineralising yes that was what it did.

and as it mmmineralised it got heavier and heavier i suppose you think i wouldn't notice embedded in the rock but let me tell you yes i did. my optimistic view of life diminished.

time passes very slowly when you are a fossil, i would give anything to have your life mister lobster i would not fear a predator i would rejoice to think that i was soft enough to eat i would not fear the transmmmmogrifying fire. ppprp.

Biodiversity

Pliny the Elder was beside himself with frustration. If the ladybird had not had legs, a circumstance he personally doubted, then it needed to be studied further. Perhaps it really did live in a seashell. Perhaps instead of legs it had tiny flippers. It would now be impossible to ascertain.

I felt a little guilty, not just for Pliny's sake but for the sake of biodiversity in general. If only I had not washed the little blighter down the sink! At least, I thought, I can try and make it up to Pliny.

Would you like to write the next few blogs? I asked him. You may write on any subject that you choose, I shall not interfere.

Pliny brightened up.

Thankyou, he said. I would like that.

What will you write about? I asked.

Blue Devil fish, said Pliny.

Really? I said. Now that is a coincidence.

Coincidence? Why? asked Pliny.

Because I .....no never mind. What else will you write about?

Chocolate biscuits, said Pliny. Don't tell me you....?

Well, I ..... ahem, anything else?

Volcanoes, said Pliny.

I would never have thought of that, I said truthfully.