Skip to main content

Ultimately a genuine leader is not a searcher for consensus, but a molder of consensus


Here you can see the effect of wind on the Derwent River this morning. I wanted another shot of the water, but it just wasn’t happening today, so you get this. I thought that this was a startlingly original choice to showcase Hobart in mid-September. Then I clicked through and saw Ben's photo of the tide is coming in to Tahunanui Beach, in Nelson, New Zealand. Obviously the breeze and the water was on a number of people's minds down here at the bottom of the world. I quite like the effect of mine, but I think that I like Ben's better. I'm not too fussed, as there are a lot of great shots on that blog, even granted the tense state of New Zealand/Australia relations that remain 27 years after the underarm incident, and merely months after an even greater scandal.

I think that the reasons that things can get tense between our two great nations is primarily rooted in our similarities: (to quote our former PM) we're at the arse end of the world; we are distant children of the British Empire; the national character has been shaped by the rugged landscape; err, we play cricket and rugby. So we're quite alike. Granted, New Zealanders are a bit like the funny sounding cousin who dresses like a Christian with a dorky haircut and a chip on their shoulder about it , but we love them nonetheless. Australians are just big-hearted like that. We don't begrudge them their love of fesh and chups, or that they reckon the devil's number is "sex sex sex", it's much colder down there you see. We cut them some slack. We know that it can’t be easy forever cast in Australia’s shadow.


[Disclaimer: if you happen to be a disgruntled New Zealander with access to a firearm, please disregard the above commentary. It was the fault of the Welsh. Them and their bloody leeks.]

Comments

EG CameraGirl said…
Very funny, Kris. You have a great sense of humour...a little strange, but probably because it's a lot like the British...Ha! and also like Canadian humour, especially that from our beloved Newfoundland.

Sounds like Australia's relationship with New Zealand might be like Canada's with the U.S. We love them BUT insist we are different, VERY different. And HA! We can point to the reasons why. ;-)
Erik W. Laursen said…
For some reason, I'm in love with this picture. I've been thinking of the now deceased auther, David Foster Wallace. Infinite Jest ends with the words: "And when he came back to, he was flat on his back on the beach in the freezing sand, and it was raining out of a low sky, and the tide was way out."

If you have several months to read the book, I recommend no book more.

And as for Canada, where are you guys again? Don't you have a waterfall or something a little bit north of where I live?
I really enjoy visiting your blog, Kris and you have an adorable family there!
Anonymous said…
Glad to see a bit of Welsh abuse here. As an Englisher living in Scotland it makes a very pleasant change from English-bashing!
KL said…
Have you ever considered a career in comedy field - writing, acting, whatever? I think you will become quite famous.
Anonymous said…
I like this picture. I might dig out my old picture of the Clyde, now you've put me in mind of it again.
Anonymous said…
I just commented twice on this picture at different times of the day, with no recollection at all of the first comment. I think I've been working too hard.
I love the texture of this water. Extremely cool! Mary :-D
Anonymous said…
This is a pretty neat photo. I like it and also your sense of humor.

Popular posts from this blog

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut