Prat Maths

I'm standing in the Commonwealth Bank in Norwood waiting for my turn. I'm listening to the man in front of me talking to the teller.

Busy? he asks her.

Yes, she says.

Good to see that some people are, he says.

She doesn't reply, but gets on with stamping his cheques.

I used to work once, he continues, but I didn't like it.

You prat, I think, looking closely at his back. He is about 55, florid, with thin stubbly hair on the top of his head, wearing very clean casual clothes.

The teller doesn't take the bait.

Do you know what a Public Servant is? he perseveres.

Yes, she says, I th...i...nk so. She is very young.

It means the public are your servant, he says.

She doesn't get it. She continues stamping and moving bits of paper.

I was having dinner with a teacher last night, he goes on. And she couldn't even multiply 12 by 20. She told me she was an ART teacher.

A pregnant pause.

I just feel sorry for the kids, he ends lamely.

Then it's time for him to go.

Bye, says the teller. Next, please.

I just feel sorry for all of us.

Neroli Jasmine

Do you like my new perfume? I asked Pliny the Elder this morning.

No, he replied, wrinkling his Roman nose. You smell like the emperor Nero.

Impossible, I said, offended. My new perfume is Neroli Jasmine. Neroli was invented by Anne Marie Orsini, Duchess of Bracciano and Princess of Nerola, in the 17th century. She used it to perfume her gloves and her bath. Neroli is the essence of the flower of the bitter orange, and it's named after her.

All perfume smells of excess and luxury to me, growled Pliny. A superfluous decadence! The emperor Nero used to perfume the soles of his feet. He sprayed fragrance down upon his dinner guests from pipes hidden in his ivory carved ceiling. He once accidentally asphyxiated one of his guests under a shower of rose petals.

So you don't approve the use of any sort of perfume, I ventured.

I don't, and I blame the practice on the Egyptians. Myrrh, frankincense, thyme, marjoram, lavender, lily, rosemary, peppermint, cedar, rose, aloe, olive oil, sesame oil, almond oil, cinnamon, saffron and balsam, all were known to them. They used to place a cone of scented grease on the heads of guests at a dinner party. The grease melted and trickled down their necks. They thought it increased their brain power. They also thought it useful in the prevention of drunkenness.

Really? I said, pricking up my ears. I wonder if it worked?

No, he said. I think we can safely say it did not.

Not yet knowing

she walks with a companion through the park
to buy perfume now her sense of smell is back;
in store for her, an unlocking of time.

forgotten the logic of perfume,
the meaning, the choosing of the memory
and the glamour of the name.

locked in glass cabinets guarded by dragons
elizabeth taylor charlie fire and ice
tabu.

in body shop the staff ignore the customers,
dressed as americans
giggling in a corner.

she tries white musk,
white musk with iris,
neroli jasmine and vanilla bean.

the companion's nose agrees
with her nose
neroli is nicest

in the the park
under the bridge
the ducks sniff the air.

she drifts by
not yet knowing
it's the right one.

At Their Feet

Pliny and her mum went to a Lunch Hour Concert yesterday. They had spent so long having lunch that the only place they could get two seats together was on the front row. The front row is good for some things though. You get a direct and close up view of the performers' legs and feet.

The Adelaide Chamber Legs and Feet played two beautiful and seasonally appropriate pieces, the first being the Serenade for Strings by Elgar and the second being the Serenade for Strings by Tchaikovsky. Legs and Feet, understandably, like to have two of everything.

Elgar's Serenade was about a river. The Legs and Feet dipped their toes in and played. All in all there were thirty four Legs, and thirty four Feet. The Feet were a variety of ladies' and gentlemen's Feet. The ladies' Feet were clad in flat black shoes, flat glittery shoes, or high heeled gold strappy sandals. Between the sole of the sandal and the big toe of the right Foot of the first violin, a tiny hair floated, lyrically. The gentlemen's Feet sustained heavy black shoes of varying degrees of pointedness. All the feet swayed serenely as Elgar's river flowed to its lilting conclusion.

Tchaikovsky's Serenade was a slow introduction to trousers. What infinite variety is to be found in human trousers! Even when they are all of necessity black. There were rhythmic and energetic trousers of every possible length, up to and including the length at which they may no longer be called trousers, but lightly skipping Capri pants. At the other end of the scale were trousers that were so long and muted that the shoes were hardly visible. During the Serenade, the tiny hair which had been under the toe of the first violin, disappeared and reappeared on the trousers of the second violin, in a wistful mood.

I have not yet mentioned the skirts, at least one of which was very Russian in character. With skirts, in the spring, come visible Legs. These were very white and exhibited a great purity of tone.

When it was over the Legs and Feet got a standing ovation from a man in a red jumper, and a decent clap from Pliny and her mum. It was good sitting on the front row, said Pliny's mum. I loved seeing the face of the cellist, it was so expressive.

Face? wondered Pliny.

Reinterpreting the Past

There, said Pliny the Elder, I told you Plato wouldn't have much idea of a real bicycle.

Yes, I agreed, but you must admit he talked his way out of the situation quite well.

He certainly did, said Pliny. Philosophers are like that. They can wriggle out of anything just by changing the meaning of words. Give me natural history any day. You know where you are with it. Something is either true or it isn't.

Mmm, I said doubtfully. Some of the things you wrote in yours are difficult to put in either category.

Nonsense, said Pliny. They were either true or not true at the time, that is what matters.

I know what you mean, Pliny, I nodded. Remember the artist who made the paper boats out of the encyclopedias? Well, one of the other things she did was to spend a whole year sandpapering the text from a set of thirty two Time-Life World Library books from the 1960s, leaving only the photographs. They were on display at the exhibition too. It was the most extraordinary thing, to see all these books with the text so painstakingly removed. It forced you to reinterpret the photographs.

What has that to do with my works? asked Pliny, suspiciously. I didn't include any photographs.

A Platonic Bicycle

Hello friends! Le Bon David here. We had an avalanche of responses after the VeloDrone's story last week. Now those responses have created a further controversy. You demanded to know how Plato could have owned a bicycle. Well, I caught up with Plato yesteday and put the question to him:

Le Bon David: May I say, sir, that it is an honour to meet you. You are a man I have long admired.

Plato: The honor is mine, sir. I have been a keen reader of Velosophy since it's inception.

Le Bon David: Very kind words, sir, very kind. Now let us get straight to the point. Have you or have you not at any time owned an actual bicycle?

Plato: First, my friend, I must make it clear that just as all my ideas come from the wise and venerable Socrates, so the bicycle, such as it was, belonged to him.

Le Bon David: Pray, continue.

Plato: Therefore when I say I had a bicycle, I mean to say that Socrates had a bicycle. And when I say that the bicycle caught fire, I mean to say that Socrates' bicycle caught fire. And when I say that it was hardly ideal, I mean to repeat a little witticism coined by Socrates himself.

Le Bon David: I see. Then the question is, was Socrates' bicycle a real bicycle?

Plato: No, it was an ideal bicycle. That is, he conceived of the bicycle by philosophical means. For as you know there were no actual bicycles in ancient Greece. We had wheels on our chariots and carts, but we had not invented steering, nor the pedal, nor had we thought of placing one wheel behind the other, until one day when something happened deep inside Socrates' cave.

Le Bon David: Intriguing! What was that?

Plato: A large log placed somewhat precariously on the top of the fire suddenly collapsed and fell to the floor of the cave where it continued burning, with the result that there were now two fires burning side by side. Now as you know, Socrates used to sit near the entrance of the cave, dreaming up ideal objects and imagining what they would look like.

Le Bon David: Did he indeed? I should have thought that would be somewhat unproductive.

Plato: No, no. He had, in fact just dreamed up an ideal sort of wheel. When the fire suddenly divided into two fires, all the other people in the cave........

Le Bon David: Other people in the cave?

Plato: Yes, yes, prisoners remember? In the allegory they represent the general public, who do not know how to philosophise.

Le Bon David: Ah yes, I do remember.

Plato: So, the other people in the cave, who were sitting looking at the shadows thrown up on the wall by the objects that were passing in front of the fire behind them .....are you with me?

Le Bon David: No, what objects are these?

Plato: You would have to ask Socrates. But I believe he used to try and demonstrate his ideas using his fingers as puppets. I know he used to do an awfully realistic rabbit.

Le Bon David: So what happened that day?

Plato: Well! The people were looking at Socrates' finger wheel, not being particularly excited by it, when all at once they saw the shadows of two wheels one in front of the other, and they began shouting at once. Look Socrates! You've made a bicycle! And that was the beginning of it.

Le Bon David: The idea caught fire, so to speak!

Plato: Yes, my friend, I believe you have understood me perfectly.

Boat People

Pliny the Elder is admiring my little paper boats. These are admirable, he says.

Thanks, I say, I learned how to make them last Saturday when I went to an art exhibition at the Samstag Museum.

Under what circumstances did you learn to make them? asks he.

There was a woman sitting at a large wooden table making paper boats from pages she'd torn from a set of leather bound encyclopedias piled up in front of her. She asked me if I'd like to make one, and when I said yes she showed me how.

This seems to me an unjustifiable desecration of a valuable book, says Pliny, with a frown.

But, says I, it can be justified. The woman, who was not the artist, by the way, but was acting according to the artist's instructions, told me that the artist was very concerned with the issue of boat people, and the boats were being made to represent them in some way.

Why use the encyclopedia? asks Pliny, unconvinced.

Because, I say, it represents the collected wisdom of the Western World, which for all its wonderfulness has not taught us compassion, and because its jolly nice quality paper and quite fun to fold. Also if you think about it encyclopedias are pretty well defunct these days.

Humph! humphs Pliny. I still think she could have used some other kind of paper. I notice you yourself have made your paper boats out of some old invoices and a shopping docket.

Well, I don't have an encyclopedia, I say. And I'm blowed if I was going to tear up my beloved dictionary.