Blue is the colour of the sky in the morning, when we rise, in the morning, when we rise. That's the time, that's the time, I love the best.

Here you can see a familiar view of the Derwent. I like this one, it's very blue and I do like a nice shade of blue.

I once knew a person who was very needy with regards to their demands of a friend. They required constant positive reinforcement with regards to all facets of their approach to life. In turn, they were deeply and hopelessly inadequate in reciprocating these demands. One day, this other person – a mutual acquaintance – set about deliberately and methodically dismantling the first person’s sense of self. He refused to laugh at his jokes. He rebuffed his offers of petit amusements. He aggressively denounced his political beliefs and ridiculed his opinion on the arts. Finally, he seduced, and then callously tossed aside this fellow’s much loved lady friend.

Interested, I asked him why he had done all of this, and he replied, “I don’t know, I just felt like it and I thought that it would be funny”.

He did make funny noises when he cried. I will admit that. Like a pig. "Oink oink." So he had a point.

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

This will hurt me...

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