She believed in nothing; only her scepticism kept her from being an atheist.

Another day, another shot of the surface of the water. Yes, it is the Derwent River again!

In my world, it seems that the terrible twos have mutated into the wretched threes early, and we have one junior Idi Amin - only with less concern for others - on our hands. It makes for a pleasant day.

I suppose that it could be worse, he could be Roman Polanski. If he were Roman, however, at least we could on Hollywood to stand by him! It's a good thing that Polanski only raped a young girl, and not anything to do with dogs. The public's forgiveness has its limits, you know!

Comments

Miles McClagan said…

Ah, Idi Amin - allegedly at 1ne time king of my people...

A title since taken by the Proclaimers in odd numbered years and Douglas Henshall in the even...

3 October 2009 at 19:29

Kris McCracken said…

Miles, you do have to wonder what kind of mind would interpret "King of Scotland" as a claim to greatness...

6 October 2009 at 10:08

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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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