It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log

It appears to me that the terrible twos have appeared early in this household. This realisation, coupled with the reality that I was unsuccessful in getting more than thirty minutes consecutive sleep last night, Henry and I shrewdly decided to go on a LONG walk. Although it would be hard work on my tired, aching bones, it would put us in the position where we would be unable to murder each other without prompt arrest. A strategic course of action, I feel.

The thing that garnered most interest from the odd couple along the way was a decent-sized ship pulling up on the other side of the river. Upon return and with the aid of Google, we found out that the ship is called British Liberty, it is listed as a “Chemical/Oil Products Tanker”, or to be more precise, a “Liquid Tanker”. Indian sailors primarily operate it, and its call sign is “MFLM9”. The marvels of the Internet also means that its every movement can be tracked at sailwx.info. Very nice!

We decided to take the scenic route along the Derwent River (Eastern Shore side) from Geilston Bay to Lindisfarne Bay, to see what the ducks that frequent those haunts think of the terrorising toddler.

Here is Henry harassing some Geilston Bay ducks on Monday. Note the fetching bulge of the cloth nappy!

We also saw quite a few of what I am reasonably confident are Kelp Gulls (Larus dominicanus). If anyone out there reads this is of the bird fancying persuasion, please feel free to confirm or correct my assumption. I see these guys all the time, but am never sure of what they are.

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...

Search This Blog