In the good old bad old days – tens of millions of years ago, deep time they call it – there were reptilian types strolling around the colder regions. Not because they had access to beautiful Cornelius furs and could rug up, grasshopper, but because the polar regions were little greenhouses back then.
Check out this article about ye olde climatic conditions, taken from an essay in the New Scientist, if I’m not mistaken, but you don’t have to subscribe to this one to read it. It’s very interesting, and a little scary. What more could you desire, my dears?
The lesson for all of us here is never to volunteer to hold the oars, not even for a second. Splinters are the least of your worries when you’re facing very strong headwinds, and space junk up to wazoo. Don’t say you weren’t warned, friends and others.
When I return for holidays on Earth, the first place I visit is the South Pole, mainly because I usually run into Sir David Attenborough filming a documentary there, not to mention everywhere else. And also, it’s melting – the Earth in general – and I don’t want to get my paws wet unnecessarily, not for the sake of a few days of glacier-calving anyway.
When are you coming to Mars, Sir David? When? Just because we have no discernible native creatures yet ready for your toney movietone newsy/doco thingys is no reason to shun us. Something is bound to turn up in the dust eventually, and eventually you’ll all be heading this way, won’t you, as the water laps your galoshes? Eventually.
It only remains for us to make a booking and turn up for Chef Francesca’s delicious tuna-themed slices.
Well I remember a little pizza joint just around the corner from my alma mater, the august and september-y University of Queensland, in Hawken Drive. It was truly a dive, because you had to dive down below street level, with the aid of a set of stairs as I recall, or perhaps simply a well-timed roll, in order to enter its very Bohemian portal – well, it seemed extremely Bohemian to a little cat from Central Queensland’s sticks still trying to find her city paws. Great pizza though, and drinks. Oh, the drinks. One was far too many, friends, and, as usual, a hundred more were never quite enough. Good times … the little I well remember of them.