Angelus and had first thought he’d stop at John Tait Hut, three hours back down the road, but reckoned he’d still have enough daylight to get out this far. Pretty good estimate; outside the sky was already a dark shade of blue.
I poured water into the pot and left it to boil. I took out some rice cakes, the cheese and a packet of soup, then handed her the empty water bottle and instructed her to fill it up from the tank.
Fabian brought his hiking boots and poles inside, leaving them next to the door, and suggested we do the same. We’d thought it might be a good idea to air our boots, but then Fabian mentioned the keas.
As I lifted our boots and poles into the cabin, Fabian explained that once we were about a thousand metres up we were already in kea territory.
I told him I’d heard people talking about them back in Kepler.
Fabian said that in that case we probably knew what he was getting at.
The door opened, and she came back in with the bottle of water, batting sand flies out of the way and cursing like a trooper. In English she said that she couldn’t understand why such an amazing country had to be full of creatures that were such arseholes. Fabian nodded, and they continued talking about the local fauna. I didn’t really listen any more, but I was amused and slighdy disappointed at her naïveté. Animals just follow the behavioural patterns typical of their species; they don’t have morals. Only Disney films depict animals with a concept of good and evil.
Pizza boxes filed inside deep freezers. Packets of frozen chips stacked beside them.
My skin starts to tingle at once. Hollow, familiar. So sweet you want to scratch it.
I have a quick look around and kneel down. The cable winds its way behind the refrigerated drinks cabinet, supposedly out of sight. A sharp tug. Snap. It’s out of the plug point.
An almost imperceptible hum in the soundscape of the store changes. Other than that; nothing happens. Somebody turns up. Lifts bags of frozen vegetables into their shopping trolley. They jangle icily. For now.
It’ll take all day or even until the next morning for anyone to notice. The bags of fries will be mush. Toffee will ooze out of the ice-cream cones. Maybe a clock or an alarm will ring once the temperature inside starts to rise. But by then, with any luck, it’ll be too late.
I pick up a large packet of crisps and a litre-and-a-half bottle of fizzy and take them to the check-out. The girl doesn’t give me a second look. This isn’t the shop where I’ve got an account.
Even if the stuff in the freezers don’t thaw out entirely, there’ll be no way of knowing how long the bags have been warm, whether they’ve gone off or not. just imagine the fuss, the hookah, the palaver. The staff will give each other the evil eye, then end up blaming the cleaners.
If the shopkeeper’s a total tightarse he’ll let the stuff freeze again and try to flog it off. Some shopper’ll be in for a Kinder Surprise when they open their bag of chips, now nothing but furry ice crystals. Some kid’ll end up with ice cream that’s like candle wax.
I rip open the bag of crisps at the shop door; some of them spill on to the stairs. Let the pigeons have their share. I take a good handful of them and stuff them in my mouth so my teeth can hardly move.
Fizzy drinks taste best when the inside of your mouth is white with salt, your saliva glands clogged up.
SOUTH COAST TRACK, TASMINIA
Deadman’s Bay
Wednesday, March 2007
Heidi
The people here look like they’re half dead. Grey in the face, and they don’t talk much, can barely muster a passing, exhausted hi. One group at least asks whether it’s a long way to the water source. I point back the way we came, towards the stream, and tell them it’s about two hundred metres, Jyrki offers to show them the way; we need more water for tomorrow, too. There’s another group of six just arriving, including a couple that are clearly
I poured water into the pot and left it to boil. I took out some rice cakes, the cheese and a packet of soup, then handed her the empty water bottle and instructed her to fill it up from the tank.
Fabian brought his hiking boots and poles inside, leaving them next to the door, and suggested we do the same. We’d thought it might be a good idea to air our boots, but then Fabian mentioned the keas.
As I lifted our boots and poles into the cabin, Fabian explained that once we were about a thousand metres up we were already in kea territory.
I told him I’d heard people talking about them back in Kepler.
Fabian said that in that case we probably knew what he was getting at.
The door opened, and she came back in with the bottle of water, batting sand flies out of the way and cursing like a trooper. In English she said that she couldn’t understand why such an amazing country had to be full of creatures that were such arseholes. Fabian nodded, and they continued talking about the local fauna. I didn’t really listen any more, but I was amused and slighdy disappointed at her naïveté. Animals just follow the behavioural patterns typical of their species; they don’t have morals. Only Disney films depict animals with a concept of good and evil.
Pizza boxes filed inside deep freezers. Packets of frozen chips stacked beside them.
My skin starts to tingle at once. Hollow, familiar. So sweet you want to scratch it.
I have a quick look around and kneel down. The cable winds its way behind the refrigerated drinks cabinet, supposedly out of sight. A sharp tug. Snap. It’s out of the plug point.
An almost imperceptible hum in the soundscape of the store changes. Other than that; nothing happens. Somebody turns up. Lifts bags of frozen vegetables into their shopping trolley. They jangle icily. For now.
It’ll take all day or even until the next morning for anyone to notice. The bags of fries will be mush. Toffee will ooze out of the ice-cream cones. Maybe a clock or an alarm will ring once the temperature inside starts to rise. But by then, with any luck, it’ll be too late.
I pick up a large packet of crisps and a litre-and-a-half bottle of fizzy and take them to the check-out. The girl doesn’t give me a second look. This isn’t the shop where I’ve got an account.
Even if the stuff in the freezers don’t thaw out entirely, there’ll be no way of knowing how long the bags have been warm, whether they’ve gone off or not. just imagine the fuss, the hookah, the palaver. The staff will give each other the evil eye, then end up blaming the cleaners.
If the shopkeeper’s a total tightarse he’ll let the stuff freeze again and try to flog it off. Some shopper’ll be in for a Kinder Surprise when they open their bag of chips, now nothing but furry ice crystals. Some kid’ll end up with ice cream that’s like candle wax.
I rip open the bag of crisps at the shop door; some of them spill on to the stairs. Let the pigeons have their share. I take a good handful of them and stuff them in my mouth so my teeth can hardly move.
Fizzy drinks taste best when the inside of your mouth is white with salt, your saliva glands clogged up.
SOUTH COAST TRACK, TASMINIA
Deadman’s Bay
Wednesday, March 2007
Heidi
The people here look like they’re half dead. Grey in the face, and they don’t talk much, can barely muster a passing, exhausted hi. One group at least asks whether it’s a long way to the water source. I point back the way we came, towards the stream, and tell them it’s about two hundred metres, Jyrki offers to show them the way; we need more water for tomorrow, too. There’s another group of six just arriving, including a couple that are clearly
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