4 JUNE 1994, Page 36

In a Majorcan Garden

An aestivating snail unwittingly was caught in the firm crotch of a young and virile fig-tree.

How could the languid molusk know towards the end of a moist and well-meandered May That the choice of its asylum for the summer would spell retirement from the world of gastropods?

Lulled by the green shade of its sappy leaves the snail slept as the loins of the ficus swelled.

And now, come late June in this Majorcan garden, the snail like a captured pearl Is still oblivious to the tragedy of being and does not know that when the rains of autumn come And its horns put out towards the beckoning drizzle, it might as well be a marble caracole - Immobile, immortalised and held in its last calcic twirl Among the twisted mummies of Pompeii.

Paul Roche