Here we come, walking down the street. We get the funniest looks from everyone we meet.

Spotted on the way to work this morning: a big line of monks – at least I think they were monks – on their way into town. "You don't see that every day", I think to myself, glad that I had the camera on hand.

Continuing the theme, off for a stroll and a bit to eat at lunchtime, no monks this time, but there was a bloke in a kilt leading an alpaca that had been imaginatively shaven. Alas for the rest of the world, I didn't have my camera.

Sorry.

Comments

Dina said…

Your Friday gets the strangeness award all right! Sure they weren't just guys in their pyjamas?
Kris, you went out to lunch without your camera? Shame! Now we'll never know what an alpaca with a hairdo looks like.

14 November 2008 at 16:49

USelaine said…

I see the monks. I'm convinced of the monks. The alpaca? Not so much.

14 November 2008 at 16:54

Anonymous said…

That reminds me of infant school, where we all had to walk along, two by two, in a long line.

Shame about the lack of alpaca/kilt photos. Always happy to see a picture of the inhabitant of a kilt.

15 November 2008 at 00:22

Dan said…

I get it Kris. Hey Hey we're the MONKees. LoL. I like your turn of mind.

15 November 2008 at 01:11

Maria Verivaki said…

shame, the kilt would have been fun too!

15 November 2008 at 07:19

Dina said…

It's OK, you needn't really get kilt feelings because you missed a great shot.

15 November 2008 at 20:43

Kris McCracken said…

Dina, I have more pictures of this group. They've been back. They had a dragon and a lion with them this week!

USelaine, I regret very much missing the shaved alpaca. It isn't something you see every day outside an S&M club.

Jackie, he had shocking legs, truth be told!

20 November 2008 at 11:47

Kris McCracken said…

Dan, I'm glad that someone does!

Kiwi, pale, pale chicken like legs!

Dina, guilt is for Catholics and mothers, so I'm told.

20 November 2008 at 12:03

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