Who knew what would happen? Not Pliny. Pliny got nearly all his predictions wrong including the start time, which was 10 am, not 10.30. And then, there were no cockatoos at Strathalbyn! Not to mention that Pliny had a salad roll for lunch and so had no need to regret a pie.
The water levels were low at Goolwa. Pliny and Nostradamus took a drive out to Hindmarsh Island to look at the Murray Mouth which was all silted up. It was a sunny afternoon, and breezy. A string of yellow buoys floated in the brilliant blue-green water, marking the dredging channel. Nostradamus snapped many wonders with his camera; a tiny blue and cinnamon mottled egg in a nest of sand; a heap of dead crabs, brown, saffron and ginger; two black water birds with orange beaks that he hoped to identify later; delicate purple flowers; feathery grasses; rude red-tipped succulents; and a mystery thing that Pliny had picked up.
On the way back they stopped at Rankine's Bar. The boats in the marina were so far below the wooden jetties that no one could have got on or off them.
Nostradamus looked at his camera to review his pictures. They had all disappeared. His memory card was cactus.
Pliny thought he would remember them all anyway. But today all he can remember of the photo of the mystery thing is that his hands were in it.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Goolwa
Pliny is going to Goolwa for the weekend. It seems long ago that it was Pliny's birthday, and he and Nostradamus decided to put off going away for reasons that were good.
They will leave on Saturday morning at 10.30. They will drive through the Adelaide Hills to Strathalbyn. They will walk around Strathalbyn and see the cockatoos. They will drink coffee.
They will continue on to Goolwa.
They will book into the Goolwa Central Hotel, and make themselves a cup of tea. They will walk down Goolwa Main Street and look for a bakery at which to buy their lunch. They will buy respectively, a pie and a pasty. At least one of them, possibly both, will regret this.
After that, no one knows what will happen.
They will leave on Saturday morning at 10.30. They will drive through the Adelaide Hills to Strathalbyn. They will walk around Strathalbyn and see the cockatoos. They will drink coffee.
They will continue on to Goolwa.
They will book into the Goolwa Central Hotel, and make themselves a cup of tea. They will walk down Goolwa Main Street and look for a bakery at which to buy their lunch. They will buy respectively, a pie and a pasty. At least one of them, possibly both, will regret this.
After that, no one knows what will happen.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Suspicio
You can admire and mistrust something at the same time. For example Pliny admires and mistrusts bees.
Today he was walking to the shops with Nostradamus along a path that was strewn with crunchy jacaranda flowers, which had attracted some bees. The first bee Pliny met flew off immediately to the right and into the road. The second bee did the same thing. Pliny thought that was interesting. He expected the third bee to do the same. But the third bee didn't really want to leave the flowers. It flew around in a circle humming, just in front of Pliny's approaching legs. Only at the very last minute did the bee veer off into the road. The fourth bee did what the third bee had done. Pliny was wearing shorts. He hoped he wouldn't meet any more bees.
Today he was walking to the shops with Nostradamus along a path that was strewn with crunchy jacaranda flowers, which had attracted some bees. The first bee Pliny met flew off immediately to the right and into the road. The second bee did the same thing. Pliny thought that was interesting. He expected the third bee to do the same. But the third bee didn't really want to leave the flowers. It flew around in a circle humming, just in front of Pliny's approaching legs. Only at the very last minute did the bee veer off into the road. The fourth bee did what the third bee had done. Pliny was wearing shorts. He hoped he wouldn't meet any more bees.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Pax Plini
Sorry, Pliny. Let's be friends again. I have written you a poem:
Pax Plini!
De luna non discordia fiat
Graphis pisci mea est
Semper adhibeo
Tu meus alter ego es
Et te suspicio.
Pliny the Elder: Thankyou that is very accomplished, but let me translate it into English for the benefit of your non-Latin reading friends.
Peace Pliny!
Let us no longer argue over the moon
The fish-topped pencil is my own
I use it all the time
You are my alter ego
And I admire/mistrust you.
Let your readers judge which meaning of 'suspicio' you had in mind.
Pax Plini!
De luna non discordia fiat
Graphis pisci mea est
Semper adhibeo
Tu meus alter ego es
Et te suspicio.
Pliny the Elder: Thankyou that is very accomplished, but let me translate it into English for the benefit of your non-Latin reading friends.
Peace Pliny!
Let us no longer argue over the moon
The fish-topped pencil is my own
I use it all the time
You are my alter ego
And I admire/mistrust you.
Let your readers judge which meaning of 'suspicio' you had in mind.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Defence of pencil
Easy it is to mock, and rashly to conclude another man is foolish. My investigations are by no means complete. I did not know that there was such a thing as graph paper. I intend to acquire some. I did not begin keeping a record until 2 days after the full moon had occurred, and so my graph is incomplete. This too I intend to rectify next month. I did not expect any other person to look at my notes. I can see nothing unusual in the use of a fish-topped pencil.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Graph paper
Pliny the Elder, in an effort to discredit my Moon Gadget, has been keeping a record of the percentages of full since Thursday the 13th of November when the moon was 100% of full.
I can see his pathetic little list right now. It's all out of order because he started near the bottom of the page, listing downwards, 94% Sat am; 89% Sun am; 81% Mon am; then he's made a red tick inside a square, followed by the words 'woolly pod', and 'grain legume'.
Next he's written 'bitter vetch' and 'toasted barley- a drench'.
And that's when he's realised he's got to the bottom of the page. So he's written his next recording of the moon's fullness above 89% full, and continued listing upwards from there, in red pen.
66% Tues pm; 57% Wed pm; 50% Thur am; 39% Fri am; 36% Fri pm.
Now we have another interruption. It seems to be a code and password for looking at an Orange photo someone sent him. Then above that, the words ' equally amphibious with the beaver'.
Oh, you've got to love him.
Onwards and upwards. 26% Sat pm; 20% Sun am; 16% Sun pm; 13% Mon am.
And that's his record, so far.
This morning he obviously thought he would commence drawing up a graph. But has Pliny heard of graph paper? No. He drew up his graph with a fish-topped lead pencil and a ruler. But he only used the ruler to draw the straight lines and not to measure the spaces between the lines.
He's sure to be pretty cross right now because even with his dodgy grid you can see that by plotting % of full against the days of the week for the last 13 days he's got himself a STRAIGHT LINE!
I can see his pathetic little list right now. It's all out of order because he started near the bottom of the page, listing downwards, 94% Sat am; 89% Sun am; 81% Mon am; then he's made a red tick inside a square, followed by the words 'woolly pod', and 'grain legume'.
Next he's written 'bitter vetch' and 'toasted barley- a drench'.
And that's when he's realised he's got to the bottom of the page. So he's written his next recording of the moon's fullness above 89% full, and continued listing upwards from there, in red pen.
66% Tues pm; 57% Wed pm; 50% Thur am; 39% Fri am; 36% Fri pm.
Now we have another interruption. It seems to be a code and password for looking at an Orange photo someone sent him. Then above that, the words ' equally amphibious with the beaver'.
Oh, you've got to love him.
Onwards and upwards. 26% Sat pm; 20% Sun am; 16% Sun pm; 13% Mon am.
And that's his record, so far.
This morning he obviously thought he would commence drawing up a graph. But has Pliny heard of graph paper? No. He drew up his graph with a fish-topped lead pencil and a ruler. But he only used the ruler to draw the straight lines and not to measure the spaces between the lines.
He's sure to be pretty cross right now because even with his dodgy grid you can see that by plotting % of full against the days of the week for the last 13 days he's got himself a STRAIGHT LINE!
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Tour Eiffel en Construction 1888
Pliny had just changed into a clean pair of jeans. She was going out to a lecture on Snowball Earth, but not for 5 minutes. She thought she would relax. She launched herself backwards crosswise onto the bed, knees up and arms thrown back behind her head. At the same time her eye was arrested by the picture on the wall opposite. It was a framed photograph of the Eiffel Tower under construction in Paris in August 1888.
That, she thought, is an exact mirror of me.
Seconds later she couldn't quite reconcile her own uplifted knees and elbows with the singularity of the Eiffel Tower, which was half built and looked like knees or elbows but not both. Nevertheless she could not shake the feeling that it was the doubling effect that had provoked the metaphor, which had been instantaneous, and not constructed later at her leisure. It was, she decided, that both she and the Eiffel Tower appeared to be performing a backward somersault.
That, she thought, is an exact mirror of me.
Seconds later she couldn't quite reconcile her own uplifted knees and elbows with the singularity of the Eiffel Tower, which was half built and looked like knees or elbows but not both. Nevertheless she could not shake the feeling that it was the doubling effect that had provoked the metaphor, which had been instantaneous, and not constructed later at her leisure. It was, she decided, that both she and the Eiffel Tower appeared to be performing a backward somersault.
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