Okay, well it’s more like the John Wayne sense of “pilgrim” than John Bunyan, but here I am, having gotten out of
Dodge Brisbane just as the latest natural disaster hit. “Here” being the Blue Mountains outside of Sydney. Once my goods and chattels were “uplifted”, to use the quaint movers’ terms, I set out for Sin City.
A Bunyan Pilgrim. Babe is nowhere to be seen.
A Blue Mountain. Yes, it really does look like this.
Despite some flood diversions and detours, I got here pretty much as I planned, and am staying at my friends’ Malte and Melinda’s place until I find somewhere I can afford in this city to store myself and said goods and chattels. And of course the very next day I had a dose of gastro – probably either from the norovirus infection doing the rounds in Brissie or the Subway I had in some country town. But I got over that (or rather I got that out), and the next day Kipling Will, a noted entomologist and systematist, came to stay for a day or so.
We went beetling, which is not at all like buggering. Kip found some Caribidae, and was happy. I have photos of him bending over, as he rustled through the undergrowth and detritus. A man should not be that happy, bending over. In public, anyway. He’s seen more of Australia this trip than I have in my life, which is pretty impressive. For those that do not know, Texas fits happily into NSW
about three times. And he drove up and down Queensland, which is bigger, NSW, South Australia and substantial and rural parts of Western Australia too.
Kip Will, beetling, not buggering.
And we talked, of course. Lots. About species concepts, classification and stuff whereof I know not wot (i.e., most stuff; it’s frightening to be the only philosopher in a room of scientists). There was beer. Or so I’m told – it’s all a bit hazy.
I got the proof of a paper I am going to display in front of actual scientists in Zootaxa, which I corrected (some of which were of course my errors, not theirs). This is equally frightening. It’s a good thing mere facts do not affect a philosophical argument. Scientists will understand, I am sure.
Right now more beetling not buggering is going on outside in the dark, but being as I am a sessile organism I decided to catch up on a little bloggery (not buggery) and reassure you all I have not succumbed to the fleshpots of NSW (what, exactly, are fleshpots, by the way? My febrile imagination is not to be trusted on this matter*).
I apologise for channelling Henry Gee, but he’s like a mind virus, you know. A very large and infectious mind virus.
* Late note: OED says it’s a pot one boils flesh in. You dirty-minded buggers!