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.

Existence

Take today. I'm in the car, a passenger. We need to get some petrol. I rifle through my petrol vouchers. Three of them are out of date. I screw them up. I don't have anywhere to put them. I hold them in my hand until we get to where were going. It's an industrial complex. I toss them in a Hippo Bin.

We're meeting a man there. He's going to give us some things. They are in cardboard boxes. You'd better look inside, says the man. One of the boxes contains cds and paper instructions, and a gold bottle top. I get the gold bottle top to hold. I hold the bottle top all the way to the Fish Factory, which is our next stop. There's a winged shield on the bottle top, or a winged helmet, if you look at it the other way up. It's sharp and cuts into my palm. At the Fish Factory I toss it in the bin near the door.

Now I'm handsfree again. But we still haven't got the petrol. We stop at a petrol station. I look through my petrol vouchers and discover another one that's expired. I screw it up. There's a bin but it's for paper towels. I clutch the screwed up voucher in my hand all the rest of the way home.

Contradictions

It's last night. Well, no it can't be, but let us say that it is. I am trying to delete a comment on Facebook.

It came about like this. Dresses are in, this summer. I've been making myself a dress. Getting carried away, I mentioned it several times on Facebook. Eventually my daughter took the bait. Who is the mysterious dress for? she wrote. Are you afraid it is for you? I replied. Yes, she answered. Fear not, said I, it is for me.

Then, in order to show her that, had I made the dress for her, she would have liked it, I took a photo and uploaded it onto my page. What do you think? I asked.

Last night we had a conversation in which the dress figured briefly. Suffice to say that after this I decided to delete both the photograph and the final question, 'what do you think ?', as now I knew the answer.

So, it is last night. I am trying to delete a comment. I press delete. Are you sure you want to delete this comment, says Facebook, rudely.

Yes, I say.

Your comment is deleted, says Facebook.

Good, I say.

But a few minutes later I see that my comment is still there.

I press delete.

This comment has already been deleted, says Facebook. The comment does not exist.

Well, I think to myself, I can see it. Where does that leave me?

The Bicycle Detective Part 4

That's it, said Pliny the Elder. What do you think?

I love it, I said, but I'm wondering whether I gave you some bad advice.

What was it? asked Pliny.

When I told you to ditch the toga, because it revealed who you were. I didn't realise your costume was a crucial part of the plot.

It was? said Pliny, surprised.

Well yes, it was. The New Lifers thought you were the Messiah because you were wearing it. But the readers of Velosophy won't know that you were wearing it unless you tell them.

But then everyone will know that it was me, said Pliny.

Yes, that is the dilemma that you must resolve, I said. I don't see how you can get out of it really. You can't just introduce a character who happens to be walking around the streets at night in a toga for no particular reason.

What if it were a dressing gown? asked Pliny hopefully.

A dressing gown! These are not the sort of people who would be duped by a dressing gown, I said firmly.

Well, then, said Pliny. I must reintroduce the toga. Goodbye privacy!

The Bicycle Detective Part 3

How's it going? I asked Pliny the Elder.

He looked up. Nearly finished, he said. It's not as easy as I thought, to write a story.

But it's a true story isn't it? I said.

Oh yes, he replied. But it's all in the telling. Now that I've reached the denouement, I'm wondering how to reveal it.

Just write what happened next, I suggested. What did happen next?

Very well. After half an hour standing under a wind-tossed tree expecting any minute to be caught in a storm, Gaius was about to go home. But just then he noticed the two bicyclists illuminated in the doorway of the church hall. They appeared to be waving goodbye to the people inside. Hurrying down the steps they headed for the bicycles. Gaius made a split-second decision.

That's good, I said, encouragingly. A split-second decision! You know how to make it exciting.

No I don't, said Pliny. And don't interrupt. Gaius crossed the road. He approached the mysterious bicyclists. I beg both your pardons, he said. But would you please tell me what goes on in there?

Oh, said the first cyclist, the one with the case. I'm awfully sorry but we really can't stay. We have to get back to our own music practice before we are missed. You see we've been moonlighting. Why don't you go in and meet some of the nice folks inside. They will be only too happy to see you. By the way, can you sing? Why yes, said Gaius, as a matter of fact I have a fine tenor voice.

Oh Pliny, I said. Do you have a fine tenor voice?

I do, he said. But as soon as Gaius said it he knew he'd be sorry.

Did he go in? I asked.

He didn't want to. But by then it was too late. Several members of the New Life community had come out to see what was happening. They drew him up the steps and into the hall. Inside the hall all the New Lifers crowded around him. Some of them smiled at him shyly. One or two patted his garment. They set up a chair on the stage and led him up to it. Then they knelt on the floorboards around him with their heads bowed and their palms together, as if waiting for something.

Pliny, they thought you were the Messiah! What did you do?

I sang Down By the Sally Gardens, and Molly on the Shore. Then I excused myself and went home. They all came out to wave me goodbye and asked me to come back again next Tuesday.

The Bicycle Detective Part 2

Pliny the Elder wrote for a while, then paused.

Should I give myself a name, do you think? he asked.

Instead of 'the man'. Yes I do, I said.

I was thinking of Gaius, he said, matter-of-factly.

It sounds a bit...... Roman, I said. How about Guy?

No, I like Gaius, said Pliny. Let me try it. Da de da..... It wasn't long before Gaius saw something mysterious happen. A figure emerged from the building on the opposite corner, carrying a large case. The figure crossed Portrush Road and went straight to the first bicycle. Having unchained it, he got on the bicycle and rode off down Dover Street in a westerly direction. Gaius was just about to start after him, when a second figure emerged from the same building, crossed Portrush Road, unchained the second bicycle, mounted it and rode off in the same direction as the first rider had done, but much faster. Gaius followed as best he could, keeping to the shadows of the trees.

But how could he keep up with the bicycles? I asked, disbelievingly.

He couldn't, said Pliny. But luckily for him the bicycles weren't going very far. He could already see that a few hundred metres down the road they had both stopped outside the Maylands Austral-Asian New Life Community Church.

And gone inside? I asked.

Yes, and gone inside, he replied. I, that is to say Gaius, walked up to the Church and stood behind a tree opposite, to observe the building. It was all lit up and there were sounds of joyful off-key singing floating out through the doors and towards his ears.

Oh yes, I said. It must have been Tuesday, their singing practice night.

You knew? said Pliny, looking surprised.

I did, I said. We've often passed that church on Tuesday night and heard their joyful off-key singing.

Well, well, said Pliny, if I had known you knew that, it would have saved me a lot of time and research. Now I suppose you are going to tell me you know that the building on the corner of Portrush Road opposite Dover Street is the Trinity Gardens Seventh Day Adventist Church and that their music practice is held on the very same night.

No, I wasn't going to tell you, I said.

Good, said Pliny. Then go away and let me get on with writing my story.

The Bicycle Detective Part 1

Right, said Pliny the Elder. I think I'm ready to begin my first draft. Hmm dm dm dm dm...It was a dark and stormy night....

Pliny, I said. I couldn't help overhearing. May I suggest you don't use that as a beginning.

Why not? asked Pliny, looking surprised. It WAS a dark and stormy night.

Yes but that was how Snoopy always used to start his stories in the Peanuts cartoons, I said. It sets the wrong sort of tone.

Oh, very well, said Pliny. It was a dark and windy night, with the possibility of storms. How's that?

Good, I said.

Two bicycles were chained to two posts within metres of each other on Dover Street, near to the corner of Portrush Road. A man, lurking behind a tree, on the opposite side of Dover Street, shivered and wrapped his toga more tightly around his body.

It's you! I said.

How did you know? asked Pliny.

The toga, I said.

Perhaps I should change it, said Pliny, looking uncertain.

Well yes, if you don't want anyone to know that it's you, I said kindly.

.....and wrapped his arms more tightly around his body, continued Pliny seamlessly. He was keeping an eye on the bicycles, which he thought should not have been where they were. There were two possibilities, he thought. First, that the bicycles were there for the night, to be used in the morning for riding to work or to school. This did not make much sense. The owners would surely have taken their bicycles onto their property, and not chained them up in the street. All the nearby houses had large gardens, he could see. The second possibility was that the bicycles were there for some dubious purpose, and if that was the case, he wanted to know what it was. He rather hoped it would turn out to be the latter.

Why did he hope that? I asked.

Obviously, then he wouldn't have to stay out all night, said Pliny.

And did he have to stay out all night?

No, he didn't.

So you have solved it?

Yes, said Pliny, I have. Now please be quiet while I get on with writing it down.