Two - Presuming Lectured Hubcaps - Two Frogs on the Top of Adcombe Hill
Map of the area to the south of Taunton, West Somerset, England. Corfe to Taunton is roughly 2 miles. The 3-word references (which are also found throughout this document in Bold) mark locations identified using the app What3Words. This app divides the planet into 3m square grids and assigns a different set of 3 words to each square. Somewhere on Earth there’s probably a square called Never Get Lost. I wonder where it is? Oh hang on a minute let’s check…. Looks like there isn’t one. But there is a Never Deft Lost. It’s in Southland, New Zealand just to the east of Rae’s Junction, between Roxburgh and Lawrence (there’s also a Never Debt Lost in the heel of Italy).
Adcombe Hill is a sort of promontory of the Blackdowns, a semi-isolated hanger off the main ridge. Standing on the promontory you can see, way down below, Corfe and the racecourse, the M5, and the tall red sandstone towers of Taunton’s churches. I’m on the lane (Presuming Lectured Hubcaps) at the top where it dips back down before rejoining the main road to Honiton, when there’s a movement in my peripherals. A rustle in the hedgerow. Is it just a spring-clean for the May Queen? Nope it’s just another frog. A little brown frog sitting there in amongst the cow parsley. The frog doesn’t move at all for the few minutes it takes me to snap ‘him’ up with my cell-phone. I’ll call him Steve, I think. ‘Big’ Steve Woodfrog.
After he hops off I’m ambling, crossing the main road (Pokers Hamster Greyhound), squelching through a calf-deep bog, wending up through a pine plantation to the ridge and the four beech trees that overlook the Vale (Engulfing Most Just). You can see these trees from the M5 or from the train as you approach Taunton from the Barbarian Lands to the east. The trees were a significant landmark for me every time I left London to visit Mum and Dad. As usual, when I’m walking along alone, words start taking formation in my head, jostling for position like Formula One drivers on the opening lap of a Brands Hatch Grand Prix.
“Hey Frog!”
“Frog! What’s up bro?”
“Oh you know, the usual, hopping around looking for things to eat. You?”
“Can’t complain. Just out and about on my once-a-week early morning stroll.”
“Mum and Dad OK?”
“Yep, Lockdown Day 99 today. Got the old routines down: food delivery Wednesday, government supplies Friday, medication and checks ups all good, gin n tonic Sunday lunch, Downton Abbey weekdays at 7...”
“You watch that drivel?”
“Yeah well, Mum likes it. Her grandparents met in service didn’t you know?”
“Nope.”
“Me neither. Turns out her grandad was a groom and grannie was the cook. Some grand Edwardian house in Surrey.” “I see. So what else is new? Hey aren’t you off to Godzone soon?” (He means New Zealand)
“Yeah only a couple more weeks to go.”
“You betta make sure you don’t take the virus over there with you mate. After all the hard work they’ve done shutting it down.”
“Too right, Steve. I’m gonna be ultra-vigilant. I haven’t had any contact with anyone other than Mum and Dad for 3 months. When I go out I’ve got the old mask on...”
“What! I hope you didn’t take a key worker’s mask, Frog.”
“Nah – Mum knocked up a few on the old machine. Used the elastic from an old pair of underpants.”
“Pretty resourceful your old Mum.”
“Yeah she’s a clever lady all right. Helluva quilter.”
“I know I’ve seen those quilts. She’s a perfectionist all right, your Mum.”
“Tell me about it...” Sighs...
“So yeah, still you might pick something up on the way back, ay? Have they got a testing-n-isolation system all set up over there?”
“Too right they have. They’ll be taking no chances. Remember they’ve had 22 deaths. That’s compared to over 42,000 here. They made the right calls at the right time so they’re not gonna stuff it up now.”
“Funny that’s exactly what the UK guys said: ‘right calls at the right time.’” “Yeah but it turned out the UK’s right calls were the wrong calls, ay.” “Yeah I guess. Though we’ll never know for sure, ay.”
“Not without a proper enquiry.”
“Like a Royal Commission or something like that? Can’t see that happening. After all the money they’ve already spent.” “Yeah you’re probably right, Steve.”
“Still at least they’ll be better prepared next time round.”
“I should jolly well hope so!”
“But yeah, going back to Godzone, so are you gonna be put into internment camp or something like that?”
“Detention hotels I heard.”
“Jeepers! I bet that’s costing a bomb.”
“Yeah well, come this far. Can’t drop the ball now.”
“So are you gonna have to pay for that?”
“Looks like they’re thinking about it. Funny I just did my tax return yesterday! It’s a few grand. Maybe they’ll be satisfied with that.”
“Jeepers Frog. But you haven’t earnt a cent this year. Seems a bit unreasonable. Forces outside of your control and all that? Correct me if I’m wrong, but they don’t charge prisoners and refugees over there for food and shelter while they’re being detained do they?”
“Yeah I know, but, Steve, you know, it is what it is. I’m in no position to complain. There’s a helluva lot of people been through a helluva lot worse than I have. Lost their jobs, spent all their savings... got sick... or God forbid... had to endure the death of a loved one without a chance to even say goodbye...”
“It’s a cruel world all right, Frog.”
“Yep. A cold hard world.”
“Who’d have thought? A puny little virus...”
“... a novel corona virus at that...”
“Well that’s nature for you, Frog. So why are you even risking going back then? You should just dig in here, shouldn’t you? Grit yer teeth, mate.”
“O, you know, Steve, I miss the wife n kids..”
“The Old Red Squirrel?” (he means Zil) “George n Felix?”
“Yeah. Plus my friends. I miss them too. And all my Climbing New Zealand buddies. And my students. Work! I miss teaching. And good old Godzone! The bush and swimming in the sea and all that. Me doggie, Cassie...”
“And the piano, Frog? Aren’t you supposed to be some species of pianist?” “Oh yeah! I almost forgot!”
“So it’s all that human-frog emotional stuff then?” “Yeah, I guess.”
“Hah! At least that’s something we frog-frogs don’t have to put up with. Just give us food, shelter n sex. That’s all we need. But you guys? It’s oh yeah, we need to ‘belong’! Or we need to ‘create’! I just don’t get it.”
“No well you wouldn’t would you? You’re a frog, Steve. And by the way what’s killing you guys?”
“Oh, you know... Matter of fact, we don’t really know. Probs a combination of environmental change, habitat destruction, poisoning... that kind of thing.”
“Still you’ve had a pretty good run at it, ay? Couple hundred million years or something?” “Yeah, can’t complain. A good innings.”
“That’s life I spose...”
“Yeah... well gotta hop off now, Frog. Feeling a bit peckish.”
“K catch ya later, Steve.”
“Yep. So long, Frog, all the best!”
Next:
UK-born in 1962, Treefrog ‘David’ Sanders is a musician and artist with a peculiar interest in the piano and creative investigations into the world of fluid dynamics. Since 2009, David has exhibited works at venues including the NZ Academy of Arts, Thistle Hall and Ron Barber Gallery. David has also been a member of the Bayview Shelley Bay Arts Collective and the music theatre group, Amalgam. Solo painting shows include Demolition Series (2009), Surface Tension (2013) and Strange Attractors (2017). David lives and works in Wellington, NZ.