There is no accomplishment so easy to acquire as politeness, and none more profitable.

This gull is wondering why my post is so late today...

Thus, today's Sunday Top Five is the Top Five Reasons Why My Post Is So Late Today!

1: Dirty nappies need soaking, and soaked nappies need washing, and washed nappies need hanging out. Toddlers refuse to help in such matters.

2: Pancakes don't cook themselves!

3: Ezra isn't allowed to play in the toilet water and someone has to guard the toilet.

4: I've been up to the top of the mountain and come back down again (photos to come).

5: I have a wife to tickle.

Don't even get me started on mowing the lawn...

Comments

Roddy said…

Toddlers create the situation, thus their input. Pancakes? Is this not a situation that you yourself created?
I've been up to the farm and cut more wood. Why then couldn't you mow the lawns? Toilet water? Some shielas put it on their skin. Eau de toilette.
Seagulls eat chips, and anything else they get their beaks on, harass picnickers and just otherwise laze about and do nothing.

8 November 2009 at 16:07

kylie said…

i'm not sure that any of those reasons are good enough.........

8 November 2009 at 17:01

lettuce said…

i hope these aren't ordered by priority

8 November 2009 at 22:31

Vince said…

bloody mowing!!!
argh - my place is some sort of Bermuda Triangle for mowers; they all turn into some sort of old-generation Ignalina or Chernobyl power plant and just decide, one day, that they will cease to function - usually in the most catastrophic of cessations...as they do.

9 November 2009 at 00:52

Kris McCracken said…

They're all great reasons. Thanks for the feedback all!

10 November 2009 at 10:45

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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