more favourable locations, while others squirted about on jets of water. They mated to reproduce, or simply divided, then ate each other and their own young. Many were merely a mouth with a digestive tract hanging behind it, while others were ornate filigrees that hung and hovered in the water, catching the sun that gave life to everything. Some pulsed with luminescence while others had eyes that dwarfed the rest of their bodies. Evolution was practising. Most were in blind alleys, doomed to extinction in a handful of generations, because they were not fast or clever enough, or because they tasted too good. Other's held tenure for aeons, making Man's visitation on the planet appear no more than a footnote.
Some learned how to convert dissolved gasses and minerals into stone, and developed shells for protection, and for a while they held dominion of the sea. But even, these, after a moment or two of life, hardly a blink in geologkal time, sank to the bottom to join the countless billions of their ancestors. The land rose and sank, rose and sank, in cycles measuring millions of years. Gondwanaland was pulled apart by forces exerted by the Moon and Sun, and by the rotation of the Earth, into a group of smaller continents much like the ones that exist today. Sheets of ice scoured these lands, stripping the soil in some places, depositing it on others, and mountain chains bulged upwards as the new continents crushed against each other.
As the climate became more stable Mankind evolved, probably in Africa, and rapidly spread all around the planet. One group, handsomer and more resourceful than the rest, arrived at a place that was as fair as anywhere else they'd seen on their travels. The water was sweet and the climate favourable.
'This'll do,' their leader declared.
'What shall we call it?' someone asked.
'Yorkshire,' he replied, and so it was.
Ching-ing! Ching-ing! The sound of steel against steel echoed off the far wall of the quarry as Rosie Barraclough attempted to chisel a particularly fine specimen from the limestone wall.
'There!' she declared as it finally broke free. 'Who can tell me what these are?'
She handed the splinter of rock to Geoff, who shrugged his shoulders and passed it to me. It was a cluster of crinoids, but I handed it on without saying so. There were six of us in the group, including Rosie, and we all wore yellow helmets and plastic safety glasses. When I read the brochure for evening classes at Heckley High School that plopped on to my doormat, I'd been torn between Geology and Spanish for Beginners. Geology because I was interested and I like to know what I'm looking at when I tramp over the moors and dales; Spanish because it might be useful. I'd decided on Spanish as I walked into the school hall on enrolment night, because I was determined to do more travelling and the learning effort required might keep my brain cells from ossifying. But then I saw Rosie.
She was sitting all alone behind a desk with a label on it that said Practical Geology. I cast a glance at the queue waiting to sign up for Spanish, decided that holidaymakers ought to boycott any country that encourages the ritual torture of animals, and veered towards Geology. Whether it was a wise move or something I'd regret for the rest of my life is open to debate.
'Charlie,' I heard her say.
'What, Miss?'
'Any ideas what this is, or have I been wasting my time?'
'It's a fossil.'
'Ye-es. But of what?'
I went off dolly birds a long time ago. Rosie was not too many years younger than me and had grey hair, with silver streaks. But it belonged grey. I couldn't imagine it any other colour. Her face was strong and mobile, with a mischievous grin constantly playing around her eyes, and she looked great in jeans.
'Um, an ammonite.'
'No, Charlie. You're about 200 million years too late.'
'Story of my life.'
'Anybody else?'
'Are they crinoids?' Miss Eakins ventured, and as she looked down at the specimen her hard hat fell forward and dislodged the spectacles, as it had done several times before. There are two Miss Eakins in the class, each a mirror image of the other. Identical glasses, identical anoraks and boots, identical hairstyles. Well, style is hardly the word. Frizzy mess is more like it. They did everything together, as far as we could tell, even to the point of speaking in unison. Asking: 'Are they crinoids?' was a great departure from the norm for one of them, a blow for individuality. The other Miss Eakin looked horrified.
'Well done,' said Rosie,
The other two members of the class were men. Geoff was a retired building society manager and Tom still worked at something in engineering, he said. Like me, they both enjoyed walking and wanted to know more about what was underfoot. I think the two Miss Eakins only joined because it was an 'ology. There were twelve of us in the class at the beginning of term, but a succession of rainy Wednesdays had washed out most of the fieldwork, so Rosie had gallantly taught theory in the classroom. I didn't mind, still found it interesting, but numbers had dwindled. I'd have been happy if they'd all stayed away. This was the last class of the summer term, and our only foray out into limestone country, to Bethesda quarry, on the southern boundary of the Yorkshire Dales. It was a long way from Heckley, but geology is all about fossils to the amateur, so we'd met an hour earlier than usual and gone looking for them at the bottom of the quarry, beneath the sandstone. And there was a link with the town, Rosie told us: the stone for Heckley Methodist chapel had been donated by the owner of Bethesda quarry.
It was also the last chance I'd have to invite her for a drink.
'Are there any dinosaur bones in here?' Tom asked. If all engineers are like Tom I'm not surprised the industry collapsed.
'No, Tom,' Rosie replied without a hint of impatience or dismay. 'Down here we are in the Palaeozoic era. The dinosaurs didn't appear until the Triassic period, which would be up there somewhere if it hadn't been eroded away.' She waved a hand, still holding the chisel, towards the lip of the quarry.
The worst scenario was that I suggest we all go to the pub for an end-of-term snifter, but it wasn't necessary. As the class started back up the track to where the cars were parked I hung behind, looking for a suitable ledge where I could leave the fossilised crinoids. It wasn't such a fine specimen to be worth keeping, but a future class might appreciate it. I place it in a niche in the rock wall and sauntered after the others.
Rosie was standing by the boot of her car, collecting our hard hats and spectacles. I placed mine in the box and laid her fill geologist's hammer, which I'd been carrying, alongside them. None of the others were in earshot, so I said: 'Thanks for that, Rosie. It was really interesting and I've enjoyed the course. Do you fancy going for a drink?'
She picked up the hammer, made a knocking motion towards me a couple of times, then said: 'An ammonite!'
'Ammonites, crinoids, I was close.'
'Only in the dictionary.'
'That drink?'
I think she was blushing slightly as she said: 'Yes, that's a good idea.'
I'd brought Geoff and Tom to the quarry, and Rosie had given a lift to the Misses Eakins. We dropped them off in the school car park, said our goodnights and I helped Rosie carry her stuff back into the geology lab. It was almost dark and the school caretaker was waiting for us, jangling his keys. Ten minutes later Rosie and I were seated in the pub sipping gin and tonics. There's something irresistible about a g and t. I'd gone to the bar feeling quite content and at peace with the world, prepared to order a half of lager for myself, but as soon as Rosie asked for a gin and tonic my salivary glands burst into life and I heard myself say: 'That sounds nice. I think I'll join you.'
'So what made you become a geology teacher?' I asked, after that first satisfying sip.
'Ooh, that's just what the doctor ordered,' she said, lowering her glass and pulling an approving face.
'You must have a different doctor to me.'
'I believe in self-medication. Why did I become a geology teacher?'
'Mmm.'
'I didn't. I became a geography teacher. Geog's my first subject. Ask me about the rainfall in Namibia, or the climatic factors affecting the rise of the wine industry in Southern Australia.'
'None, and it's warm and sunny.'
