People in their right minds never take pride in their talents.

They say that Test Cricket is the sternest test of a man's character (the inherent weakness in a woman's character appears to preclude them from being tested in a real Test).

Thus, every evening I get Henry and Ez out into our makeshift nets and hurtle cricket balls at them for hours on end. You might be wondering where the pads, gloves and helmets are.

Well, I regards pads, gloves and helmets as a sign of weakness of character. A bit of chewing gum, a moustache and a cheeky grin is all a REAL MAN needs...

Comments

Roddy said…

I can forgive the kids their lack of moustache but what is your excuse. I don't believe that you allow them to chew gum. I'll give them the cheeky grin though. They both look so good with the little grins on their faces. Big hugs and kisses to both. We are missing them both.

28 October 2009 at 20:15

yamini said…

Lovely picture again and I agree with the cheeky grin and the chewing gum part but not so sure about the moustache.

And as Roddy asked, what is your excuse? he he he he...

29 October 2009 at 15:01

Kris McCracken said…

Roddy, BAH!

2 November 2009 at 14:08

Kris McCracken said…

Yamini, Tendulkar will always be a bit short of greatness because he never had a moustache.

I used to like Javagal Srinath's mo...

2 November 2009 at 14:09

yamini said…

Bah! is ur excuse??
C'mon Kris, you can do better.

And I will always like Tendulkar as a legend, moustache or no moustache. Just like Imran Khan, and McGrath.

David Boon is the only exception though, I saw him first on TV when I was 15-years-old and since then, I have loved that walrus-yy moustache.

4 November 2009 at 16:22

Kris McCracken said…

David Boon was once the pride of Tasmania.

Ricky Ponting, although also Tasmanian, is not particularly liked around these parts.

10 November 2009 at 10:29

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...

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. ...

This will hurt me...

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