The Testimony of Taliesin Jones (5 page)

'
The tr
ick
i
s
t
o g
ive up
c
hildish
w
ays and still
see
th
ings
lik
e a c
hild:
s
imply
a
nd cl
early,
with
out
the clutt
er of o
pinion
.
Y
ou
mu
stn't
b
e i
n
a
hurry t
o
b
e g
rown-up.
>
Th
e
m
an
l
ooks
do
wn
wi
stfully a
t th
e
bo
y,
r
emembering
hi
s
o
wn
qui
ck
rip
e y
outh. H
e
th
en
b
ends o
ver and pulls
off som
e
unrip
ened
b
ananas, s
till
g
reen
.

'
Here, l
ook
.
'
H
e s
naps on
e
from th
e
bunch. 'Ne
arly
r
eady
but n
ot
quit
e.
I
f yo
u
a
te him n
ow
h
e'd
t
aste
terr
ible -so
ur
a
nd h
ard a
nd h
e'd give yo
u indi
gestion.
But gi
ve
h
im so
me m
ore of
thi
s s
un
a
nd h
e'll soo
n t
aste s
weet. It d
oesn't
t
ake
lon
g. Ca
n't f
orce
it
, see
. Thin
gs
ne
ed
time to p
erfect.
Y
ou
c
an't
tr
ick
t
ime.'

'It's
only other people who tell me to grow up,' Taliesin
p
oints
o
ut
.
H
e
thinks of his broth
er
tryin
g
to b
e
o
lder th
an
h
e
is, wa
nting d
esperately
to be
a
m
an.
His b
alls
h
ave
dropp
ed,
h
e
cons
tantly
asse
rts
his age adv
antage a
nd
a
thleticism. H
e s
haves,
eve
n th
ough
th
e
fluff
y
d
own
i
sn't
bri
stle
ye
t
a
nd h
e
d
aily re
minds hi
s
y
ounger broth
er
that
b
eing
a
c
hild
i
s a
p
athetic s
tate th
at
w
e
have to
s
uffer b
efore
ga
ining th
e
fre
e
d
oms o
f
a
dult l
ife.
Talie
sin
think
s a
bout th
e
g
rocer's
c
rushed
b
alls a
nd hi
s
own balls waitin
g
f
or
th
e
sign
al,
th
e
in
evitable
dr
op to
m
anhood.
No wa
y
of
s
topping it
.
Nothin
g
h
e c
an do
a
bout it
ex
cept
w
ish for the N
ever
N
ever
droppin
g
b
alls
o
f P
eter
P
an.

'
I lik
ed
b
eing s
even
.
Thin
gs
w
ere easie
r
w
hen I
w
as
seve
n. N
o o
ne
to
ld me to grow up th
en,
th
ey
ju
st
l
et me
b
e s
even,'

h
e says
.
T
he
groce
r l
aughs
at this
. 'T
here
yo
u
a
re! You're t
alking
lik
e a
r
eal g
rown-up

a
lready, r
emembering
the
g
ood
o
ld d
ays w
hen
yo
u w
ere seve
n,
w
hen lif
e
w
as eas
ier. That'
s
wh
en yo
u
k
now
y
ou're
a grown
-up,
w
hen
yo
u
s
tart to l
ook
b
ack.'

T
ali
esin s
neezes.
'Yo
u
co
uld
d
o w
ith
s
ome
v
itamin c.
' 'W
hat's
g
ot th
e
mo
st v
itamin
C
?'
T
aliesin as
ks, a
ssessing
t
he
va
rious candid
ates.
Th
e g
rocer
d
oesn't
h
esitate
in t
aking a
n o
val
h
airy f
ruit th
e size of a
n
egg
fr
om
a
s
mall bo
x
b
ehind
th
e
b
ananas.
H
e
h
olds
it
i
n
fro
nt
o
f T
aliesin's
nose.
T
aliesin
t
akes
it
a
nd
is
r
epulsed
b
y t
he
tex
ture of it
.
'T
hese
a
re n
ew.
Don't even h
ave
th
em
in W
est
H
aven.
Ki
wi f
ruit,
fr
om
N
ew
Z
ealand.
It
's
wh
at
k
eeps
th
e
All Bl
acks so fit. T
hey're
n
ever si
ck b
ecause
th
ey ea
t th
ese
a
ll th
e
tim
e.'
Ta
liesin
pic
tures th
e
All Bl
acks
but
h
e ca
n't
i
magine
th
em ea
ting u
gly
egg s
haped fruit
.
H
e sees
th
em
do
ing
th
eir
d
ance, t
he H
aka.
Th
ey' re
slapp
ing
th
eir
kn
ees a
nd
wav
ing th
eir
h
ands a
nd making
face
s
lik
e ca
nnibals
a
nd
c
hanting,
'
Takani,
t
akani,
kan
awi,
h
oopla,
h
oopla.'
It
's
imp
ossible to
im
agine
them eating this
peculiar little fruit with skin like an old man's
.
Not everything the grocer says is
true.

'Feels funny. How do you eat it?' he asks
.

'Some prefer to eat it with a spoon, like a boiled egg.
But I like to eat it with the skin on, just like an apple
.'
T d prefer an
apple,' Taliesin says
,
handing back the kiwi
.
'Which one is it to be then?' the grocer
asks again. Taliesin looks at the different apples on display, at the

tempting American Reds whose flesh is always sleepy. This
is the fairy tale apple; the apple that the Wicked Queen offered Snow White and
that William Tell balanced on hi
s
son's head
.
Next to these are some Golden Russets
.
The
g
rocer says that the
Golden Russet is an interesting apple, with a crisp and delicate taste. Then
there is Taliesin
's o
wn favourite: the yellow Golden Delicious, which the
g
rocer insists is a
bland apple with a misleading name. 'It's all juice and no flavour,' he says.
And at the end of the row
,
the red and green Cox's Pippin, with the leaves still on
the stalks
.

'Golden Delicious
,
please,' Taliesin says
.

The grocer is disappointed at this choic
e.

'The young always seem to prefer it. But I think it's
about time you tried the king of apples. So much better than that bland
Delicious. In fact
,
I insist that you do.' The grocer l
eans
over the
appropriate carton and selects a Cox
's
Pippin
.
'Her
e.
Sshh. This one's free. Don't let my Missus see
.
This one's good
enough for Eve. "Have an apple, go to chapel," as they say.
'

Taliesin
weighs the apple in his hand
.
With its leaf it
looks the archetypal apple. Indeed, it could be the apple that Eve picked. He
remembers the picture in his
Illustrated Bibl
e,
the
one where Eve, despite God's prohibition, has taken the apple and a vast hand
bursts through cloud to admonish her. That hand and Eve's nakedness are the
things that stuck in h
is
mind. Jonathan told
him that the story of Adam and Eve wasn't true because there were dinosaurs
before men. 'That'
s
fuckin'
rubbish,' he'd said. But Jonathan thought everything was fuckin' rubbish these
days. When Taliesin asked his usually talkative father he received only shrugs
and from his mother a sympathetic pat for asking such a lovely question
.
Then Mr Tower, his
RE teacher, said that the story was not to be taken literally. Apparently it
was a creation story; a myth with truths, he said. Maybe Walrus will know for
sure if it's true or not -he knows about apples.

'Is that story about Adam and Eve true?' Taliesin asks.
The Walrus doesn't flinch as others have done. 'Yes, most certainly,' he says.
'It might not be accurate

fact, like
.
It's just a way of showing something
;
a way of explaining
how man fell out with God
.
It shows how men and women have a choice to listen to God
or ignore Him
.'