Skip to main content

You can never do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late.


Here you can see a damp Henry with a dry Jennifer reading Sleepy Time Olie, featuring the famous robot "Rolie Polie Olie". Now, I quite like Sleepy Time Olie, as it affords a great wind down into bed time through the course of what is admittedly a gripping text (I won't spoil it for you).

The thing is though, in order for the text to properly scan, I have to affect a slight Maine accent. How I have managed to pick up the accent of an east Bangor primary school teacher, I am not sure. I think that it must have something to do with a Stephen King book or two...

Comments

Roddy said…
Is this big boy sleeping in that big boy bed yet?
Don't those toes look tickleable.
Valerie said…
Oh those eyes, Henry will Wow the girls when he grows up.
Sarah said…
How soon it will be too late! This is a poem by an Iranian poen "Gheysar Amin Pour" who died last year. Love it...
yamini said…
I second Valerie's comment. :-))

But Valerie, he is already doing that. Can't imagine what he would do when he actually grows up :-))
Kris McCracken said…
Roddy, no.

Valerie, he tries it on....

Sarah, is it ever too late?

Yamini, he has had a few nibbles on his hook.
yamini said…
I like the phrase "nibbles on his hook"!!!!
Kris McCracken said…
And it isn't a euphemism.
yamini said…
I thought so.

Popular posts from this blog

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.