The Bloody Great Stone Heads Problem

I was woken at 6.30 one morning by a hammering on my back door. I quickly dressed and hurried downstairs to find Alun in an excited mood.  

“We’ve got a tourist problem, Jed,” Alun said, holding up a blank piece of paper. 

“You know that paper’s blank,” I said. 

“Exactly, Jed. This is the list of every visitor to the island in the last ten years. We haven’t had any. None at all. They’ve all been going to Big Stone Heads Looking out to Sea Island instead. It’s the biggest tourist pull in the entire archipelago.” 

“Does it really matter,” I said. “Neither of us particular likes people, especially mainlanders. Do we even want tourists visiting here.” 

“It’s not the tourists I care about, Jed. It’s their money.” 

“Their money?” 

“Yes Jed.  I’ve been speaking to Ned and Karen from Big Stone Heads Looking out to Sea Island and they make a veritable fortune from selling teas and buns to their visitors, not to mention the postcards of the bloody great stone heads, the tea-towels, oven gloves and drinks mats.” 

“Well, there’s not much we can do about it, anyway,” I said. “Those giant stone heads staring out to see are really impressive, they can be seen from the mainland. It’s hardly surprising people go there, we can't compete with an island of giant stone heads. There’s nothing of interest on the entire island, not since we sold off the Really Interesting Volcano, there's not a lot we can do.” 

"We can Jed, we just need to build giant stone heads.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Where do we even get the giant stones to carve heads from?” 

“From the place of stuff, Jed,” Alun said. 

Stuff, is type of rock unique to Happy Island, formed from volcanic ash. Its exact nature is unknown, as geologists have never visited our island, which is why it doesn’t even have a proper name.  

The place of stuff is the pile of rocks and rubble remaining from the former volcano, which we sold off in an earlier story (The Second Hand Volcano Problem).  Sure enough, there were numerous large blocks of stone that would be ideal for carving giant stone heads on. 

Alun went up to the nearest stone, measured it and walked around it, viewing its potential.   

“This is the one, Jed.  Help me lift it.” 

“Lift it? Where are you taking it?” 

“To the clifftop, Jed.” 

“It must weigh 60 ton or more, we can’t lift that all the way up to the clifftop edge.” 

“You’re right Jed, I wasn’t thinking. I'll bring my trolley.” 

We pushed the block of stone onto Alun’s trolley, which he pulled up onto the clifftop edge. 

The following morning, I was woken at 6.30 by a distant hammering from the clifftop. I dressed at a leisurely speed, made coffee and croissants for breakfast, before leaving for an early morning stroll to the clifftop. 

I found Alun up a ladder, which was leaning against the giant stone, chiseling what might be construed as a face on the rockface. 

“Jed, meet Moira,” Alun said.  

“Shouldn't the face be facing out to sea?” I said.   

“What, you want Moira to spend the whole of eternity staring at the mainland.  I think not, Jed. There are far more interesting things for stone statues to stare at.  What do you think of my morning’s work?” 

“It's a very minimalist image,” I said. 

 “Minimalist” it's a bloody great stone giant head.” 

“But it’s a very simple, unpretentious outline,” I said. “There’s limited facial detail.” 

“You try hacking sensitive detail into a bloody great lump of rock.” 

The next morning I was woken early by a hammering on my back door.  I quickly dressed and rushed downstairs to find Alun, holding a piece of paper with one short line on it. 

“We have a tourist Jed,” Alun said. “Our plan has worked.” 

We walked up to the clifftop, where we found a tourist taking a selfie next to Moira. 

“What do you think?” asked Alun, proud of his morning’s work. 

“Where are the others?” the tourist asked. “I thought there were supposed to be dozens of these staring out to sea.” 

“We just have the one,” I explained. “You’re thinkin. g of Big Stone Heads Looking out to Sea Island. Can I interest you in tea and buns?"

“No thanks, I think I’ll go to Big Stone Heads Looking out to Sea Island.  I’ll get my tea and buns there.” 

“But what do you think of her?” Alun said. “She’s beautiful isn’t she?” 

The Finn studied Moria thoughtfully. 

“The ears are oblong,” he said eventually.  

“Nonsense,” Alun said. “Moira's ears are exactly line mine and Jed's."

“But your ears are oblong as well,” said the Finn. “In Finland, ears are not oblong. Ears look like ears.” 

So saying, the Finn left, to wait for the late morning boat. 

“So much for your plan,” I said. “There’s no way we can attract tourists with just one stone head. Especially as it's facing away from the ocean."

“You’re right Jed,” Alun said. “Let’s get another stone.” 

The following morning I was again woken by the distant hammering of chisel on stone. After a hearty breakfast I meandered up to the cliff, where I found Alun, working on the second stone.

“Jed, meet Moira,” Alun said. 

“I thought the other head was Moira,” I said.  

“I only know how to make Moiras,” Alun said.  "I'm afraid all of the heads are going to be Moiras."

Over the next few weeks, we were fully preoccupied with carving new stones, to place onto the clifftop and look away from the sea.  Alun’s plan began to work. Tourists started turning up at the island to take selfies next to the giant stone heads, and we opened a stall next to the row of heads, selling tea, buns, postcards, tea towels and oven gloves.   

“These are much better than the giant stone heads on the other island,” said one of the tourists. “They’re facing inland, which means you can see their face in the selfie.” 

However, there were still a few complaints. 

“All of the ears are oblong,” said one tourist. “People's ears don't look like that in real life."

“Are you Finnish?” Alun said. 

“Yes, I am,” the tourist said. “People in Finland do not have oblong ears.” 

“So what?” said Alun. Every other country in the world has decided not to be Finland.  For a reason.” 

In spite of the problems with Finns, Aluns stone heads grew increasingly popular and increasingly profitable.  However, one morning I was woken early by a hammering on my back door. I quickly dressed and rushed downstairs to find Alun in agitated mood.  

“It's the mainland museum Jed, they've taken all of the bloody great stone heads.” 

“But why?” 

“They say they're important cultural artefacts of a forgotten civilisation, Jed.” 

“How did they manage to lift take them? Two dozen fifty-ton giant heads, all the way up on the clifftop. But how did they carry them. They must have a combined weight of a thousand tons.” 

“They probably had trolleys Jed. They are the mainland museum.” 

“I guess we'll just have to make some more heads,” I said.  

“What with Jed. We've used the last of the stuff to make that giant, stone head shaped jelly mold.” 

Which is why, if you come to Happy Island, which nobody does now, you will see a hundred giant, wobbling green-jellies staring away from the sea.