In the very dim and distant past, I used to belong to the 1st Central scout group which met in a hut adjacent to the underground sidings behind Morden Station in south London. In this pack I rose to the dizzy heights of being a sixer, a role, which brought variable results. At a scout camp competition where we were to show off our camping and woodsman skills, our “six” successfully dug a magnificent latrine. This was discovered inadvertently during the night by one of the judges who fell into it. What we learned was that the middle of a footpath is not a good place for a lat-pit (and we didn’t do well in the competition). On a brighter and better occasion, we camped at a Longridge on the River-Thames near Marlow, a campsite which mercifully had flushing toilets. One of the main purposes of this camp was to learn how to canoe. Learning how to canoe, it seems, involves a great deal of falling out of canoes and a great deal of close up familiarity with the river. One of the things I discovered through multiple visits into the murk of the Thames water was that my feet on the riverbed squelched into layers of silty mud. To my surprise, within this mud lived some magnificent bivalves several inches long and with beautiful glossy green shells. These were swan mussels (Anodonta cygnea). I recollect my surprise at finding bivalves in a river rather than in what I thought of as their natural habitat, which is in the sea. It is the case that the modern landscape of sea-shells is dominated by the phylum of Mollusca either in the form of bivalves (cockles, mussels, clams and the like) or as gastropods (winkles, whelks, limpets and the like). There was, however, a different story to be told of the Carboniferous bivalves, which finally returns us to the question I asked a paragraph back.