Skip to main content

(My) Photo of the day, Or Rook and pawn versus rook endgame



Stunned by the audaciousness of my rook-work, Henry is for once lost for words.

It is a hard lesson for a nineteen-month old, but the lad needs to know that if the rook gobbles up all of his prawns, the horsey can do nothing at all the help the king.

Unfortunately the little bloke is the chess version of John McEnroe. A very unsavoury business, the police were called but the capsicum spray was not needed.
Labels:

Comments

Sue said…
With his sleeves rolled up like that...Henry looks deadly serious! Either that or Carson Kressley has helped him get dressed and 'joozed' his outfit...in which case I say...stay clear of President Yahya Jammeh.
ps ( a touch of capsicum spray behind the ears does wonders to help keep slatternly females at bay!)
25 May 2008 at 15:00
Anonymous said…
*lol* He looks like he has won ;-)
25 May 2008 at 17:36
Kris McCracken said…
I think the sleeves may have had something to so with the fountain in Salamanca Square. It's always vital to roll his sleeves up if there is a fountain around.
25 May 2008 at 20:17
Sue said…
Fountain = rolled up sleeves. Of course.

As usual though, dear little Henry is the handsomest boy in the world.
25 May 2008 at 21:30
Kris McCracken said…
I think that I have him pipped in the handsome stakes myself! :)
26 May 2008 at 15:12
Sue said…
Mais...naturellement, mon cher neveu!!!!
26 May 2008 at 18:52
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...
5 comments
Read more

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...
38 comments
Read more

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.
36 comments
Read more