[Stylist] One of Jewel's Jottings from yonks ago [

[Jewel]

This is a short play that I wrote a long time ago and that is explained before the action commences, 
but just an additional word or two before that.
As I said in my introduction, I am never conscious of a story being created in my brain:  It seems 
as though it, that vast organ,  always sets aside a little area which can be filled by a story etc 
when one is ready to step forward and take centre stage.

When I kept goats:  and that, although I wish it wasn't so, wasn't yesterday folks!  , it was quite 
amazing how many times solutions to problems and a whole swath of other things, would all become 
clear when I was sitting beside the goat, on the stancheon, milking, and this play was one of them.
I heard the announcement on the radio re the play-writing competition, and my first thought was 
that, though I would love to enter it, I had no idea of what material I could work with 'sorry for 
the poor gramatical construction  but "with which I could work" sounds a bit prissy!  ], however, by 
the time I had finished the morning's milking and had come back to the house and sat down in front 
of the computer, the play was there and all I had to do was "let my fingers do the talking!"  so on 
with the motley!

--------------------

This is a play that I entered for a competition sponsored  by Radio New Zealand.
The rules were that:
The play had to take place in summertime in New Zealand;
It had to contain the words:  "SP15" and "Are these your jandals?"  translation:  jandals:  what, I 
think, most of you call flip flops.  Jandals Kiwi talk for Japanese sandals, in Australia that bit 
of simple footwear are thongs].
It had to alude to someone being someone else's cousin.
I think that they were all the rules.
I wrote this many years ago, and today, decided to put it in Jewel's Jottings, but when I went to 
get it, I found that the file name was there, but the script was not, so I am reconstructing it from 
memory.

-

       GONE  FISHING

       or
        BUCK  TEETH  AND  FISH  HOOKS

-

Shrill whistle followed, after short pause,  by female voice in a conversational tone.
Oh!  there you are, Buck!  where have you been?  On the beach by the look of you!
What have you got there?"

In louder voice speaking to someone in another room of the bach.
"Morgan!  We were going to take the launch around to the back beach for a day's fishing, and half 
the day has gone already, and you are still in bed!"
Sleepy Male voice.  "alright--alright--alright Gayle!"  The way you nag, anyone would think you were 
my wife,  my mother, but never my cousin!  I am on holiday, if you have forgotten!"
Gayle.  and half of it will be gone if you don't get your A into G and get a wriggle on!"
Sound of scuffling from next room followed by Morgan's muffled  voice.  "They should be here under 
the bed, but they aren't, so where have they gone?"
Gayle.  "THEY!"  Whaat are these THEY! that should be under the bed?  Have you been stowing women 
under there?  If so, my deepest sympathy goes out to the ladies of the night!"
Morgan.  "Come now, Gayle!  I am but a simple country lad from darkest Australia!  How would I know 
of such sinful delights!  It is my thongs of which I speak. Apart from a horde of bloodthirsty 
mosquitoes, the only visitor I have had, and an unwelcome one at that, was that great furry mountain 
you tell me is a dog who burst in here at some unearthly hour, with, it seemed to me, the 
expectation that I was going to accompany him somewhere!  Did I have news for him!
Gayle.  Now, dear cuz!  You know that Buck thinks that you are the cat's pajamas!  goodness knows 
why, and all he wanted was that you should go to the beach with him to stir up those lazy seagulls.
As he couldn't have you in the flesh, he settled for you in the smell.  Are these your jandals? 
Thongs to a simple country lad from darkest Australia!!
Fade out ...   Fade in.
Gayle.  It is going to be a blazer, so we had better put on a liberal coating of sun block.  The 
best I have is SP15, so that will have to do.
Ready Morgan!  Ready Buck!  tat tahs"  excited bark.
Morgan.  You are not taking that useless lump surely?"
Gayle.  Well, of course I am.  It is better to have a Newfoundland onboard a fishing boat than to 
not have a Newfoundland onboard a fishing boat!"
Fade out:  fade in.
Morgan.  "Here we are, supposedly, fishing, but fish have been conspicuously absent.  Not a 
suggestion of even the tiniest nibble, so I will waste no more time, but will go for a swim."
Splash, followed by bark and another splash.
Gayle.  "It's OK Buck!  Cousin Morgan isn't drowning!"
Fade out ... fade in.
Gayle.  Morgan!  By the way the clouds are building up, I would say that we are in for a summer 
storm, so we had better make it for home!"
Sound of swimmer approaching boat.
Morgan.  Permission to come aboard cap'n?"
Gayle.  "You ar welcome :  fair nymph from the deep.  "COME  BUCK!  your time is up"
Morgan.  I thought that that lump of a dog was a useless sort of hound, but he sure can handle 
himself in the water!  How are we to get him aboard?
Gayle.  "Have no fear dear, the gear is here.  Just drop the ladder over the side and he will do the 
rest."  Here he comes!  Morgan:  what is that he has in his mouth?  Why!  what do you know!  Buck's 
caught a fish, and not a bad 'un by the look of it either.  First your jandals, now a fish!  Where 
will his talents end?"
Morgan.  I protest the thongs  [cough--cough] jandals;  they were stolen property, but I must 
concede that the fish was caught with his own endeavours.  Does he have a recreational fisherman's 
licence?
It is rather embarrassing to admit to have come out for a day's fishing, and the only fish caught 
was by the dog.
There's no doubt about it!  When things look at their most boring,  the furry black mountain can be 
counted on to buck things up.
Laughter and barking from canine hero.

-

Gayle and Morgan are, in real life, my sister and her son, not her cousin.
My play did not win the first, second, third, or even fourth prize, but as there were 150 entrantss, 
there were a lot of budding, and already budded playwrites who didn't either.
When I started to write it, and it only took an hour or so, I had, absolutely no idea of how the 
plot was going to work out.

         Jewel
Oh, Buck was my Newfoundland guide dog at the time.
---