Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori

Being Monday, today was Pregnastics day again, which meant that Henry and I had to decided what to do for the evening. After a long and vigorous debate (we nearly came to blows), we finally settled on making ANZAC biscuits. That way, Jennifer would have a treat ready when she came home, and also have a bribery option should mini-Mussolini play up tomorrow. Thus, the photo that you see above are the fruits of our labour (minus a few that had to be taste tested prior to the photo session).

Some of you would no doubt be very familiar with the ANZAC biscuit, but I would wager than even more are not. For the benefit of those who haven't heard of - or tasted - them, I will give a bit of back story. Even better, I'll give you a 100 percent guaranteed easy peasy recipe!

Now, there are a few theories on the origins of ANZAC biscuits, but what we do know is that they emerged in their present form during the First World War. For the REAL beginners, the term 'ANZAC' originated as an acronym for the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, an army corps of Australian and New Zealand troops who fought in 1915 at the Battle of Gallipoli.

Some say that the biscuits were developed by troops in the trenches with provisions at hand to relieve the boredom of rations. Others argue that they came from women at home in an effort to make a treat for their loved ones that would survive the long journey to the front.

Whatever the case may be, they are well worth the effort, because they are rather tasty, and incredibly simple to make.

You will need:

1 cup plain flour
1 cup rolled oats (regular oatmeal) uncooked
1 cup desiccated coconut
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup butter
2 tbsp golden syrup (or maple syrup)
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
2 tbsp boiling water

Preheat the oven at 180°C (350°F).

Combine the flour, oats, coconut and sugar in a bowl.

Melt the butter in the microwave. (Some have argued that ANZACs invented the microwave out of old tin of bully beef, bits of string and a broken gramophone. Admittedly, these people are mentally ill, but that shouldn't make their opinion any less valid!)

Mix the bicarbonate of soda with the boiling water, add the Golden Syrup and add the butter.

Pour the liquid into the dry ingredients and mix well.

Spoon dollops of mixture onto a greased tin leaving as much space again between dollops to allow for spreading.

Bake in a moderate oven, 180°C (350°F), for around 16 to 18 minutes, or at least until the go a golden colour.

Cool on a wire rack, and keep sealed in airtight containers.

EAT THEM!

But as much as I like ANZAC biscuits, I don't like them anywhere near as much as I like my two favourite little ANZACs of all:

[This one is from October of last year, so that should explain why Henry looks much smaller and why Jen isn't up the duff.)

[Oh, and my last comment for the day, I'm using the title today as a nod to Wilfred Owen's magnificent poem, probably my favourite of the 'War Poets'. So yes, it should be uttered with distaste rather than fervor.]

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

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

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.

This will hurt me...

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