Nobody climbs mountains for scientific reasons. Science is used to raise money for the expeditions, but you really climb for the hell of it.

So one computer is feeling better again, and the other is on its way back to health. The LOL sharks have been as disappointing as the latest hot young things forecast as the future of music. If that's the future of music, set the dial back to 1969 please!

But I don't want to talk about it right now. I want to talk about today. I want to talk about the adventurous start to 2009 for the motley crew that constitutes my family.

After a rough New Year's Eve that involved no alcohol, fisticuffs, or young lovelies in tube tops with ill intent; but rather more teeth, lots of screaming and very little sleeping; this morning we decided to take advantage of the cool but clear day and that a quick jaunt would be just the tonic.

Our intention was to perhaps stop of at a little French patisserie, pick up ourselves a few little tarts and croissants, some café au lait and chocolat chaud to go around and then off to a playground for a bit of kick to kick, a spot on the slide, maybe a backflip or two off the monkey bars.

But no. The scene: in the car, jumpers of, the mountain looms into view. Henry says, in a firm, cold voice: "Mountain mummy; mountain daddy". It was clear, the lad wanted (no, needed), to conquer the mountain again!

To be continued...

Comments

Anonymous said…

I think this is an interesting photograph of a mountain that looks like a stack of blocks ready to fall down.

Happy New Year to you and your family from Patty and Abe.

1 January 2009 at 21:56

Neva said…

The scenery is stunning....

2 January 2009 at 08:55

Kris McCracken said…

Abe and Neva, it is an interesting collection up around the mountain.

5 January 2009 at 12:16

Mad as hell

So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

This will hurt me...

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