Against boredom even the gods contend in vain.

Life with a toddle can get - well, let's not mince words - boring. Here's a photo from way back at Easter where Ezra struggles to hide his feelings as yet again everybody stops while Henry goes about in his usual todderiffic way of wandering around aimlessly, chattering away like a mentally ill homeless person.

Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.

Here is the little waterfall in the Japanese Garden that's located in the Royal Hobart Botanical Gardens.

Stricken by a dose of the flu [¿La temido gripe de cerdo Mexicana?, I am not sure], all I can do is lay in a congested pile of misery, plead with Henry to stop jumping on me, and dream of the Japanese Garden. It alone can deliver me peace.

We need to be the change we wish to see in the world.

Two lads as photographed from a military satellite.

As you can see, they are plotting some sort of household putsch, with the target on the left awaiting the call from his mole in the cabinet. As you can also see, the target on the right appears to have spotted something amiss, and moments after this image was taken, the coup was aborted.

That said, intelligence suggests that it is only a matter of time before the subversive forces of the young, recklessly radical faction attempt to seize power again.

Truth is lived, not taught.

From a couple of weeks back, here is a view from Salamanca Place upon the mountain with a light dusting of snow. There is no snow at the moment, just clouds!

Here is a poem!

Night

why make a noise (a noise
no less than a very loud noise
now) so late on Friday
(although it is Saturday now)
shouting swearing
"FUCK!"
"NO!" "DARREN!"
"DARREN!"
cars tyres Darren so late
Friday is Saturday
one might think that (one

does think that now) "don't
you think?" - probably not -
"don't you think a neighbour
(a neighbour so close)
would know would think would
try?"
Perhaps we might share a
delicate grunt. a nod a wink.
me. me of all
people, I know such noise
such noise I have not heard
in a very long time.

What is wanted is not the will to believe, but the wish to find out, which is the exact opposite

Two balloons, one little bloke with a plan. Dare he dream that one day he shall fly?

Well, flying may be a bit further off, but this young man is now an excellent crawler, with an urge to explore all areas of the house. Dark rooms fear him not, nor cupboards, beds, toilets or washing machines. Indeed, he's already seen more of the laundry than many adults I can think of!

Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes.

Theme Thursday already? And the theme is what? Man, I'm almost of a mind to cheat and run with (wh)OOPS I haven't done a Theme Thursday post!

Indeed, I could run with that notion and post this picture with the caption and here is Hobart's sunny eastern shore, knowing full well that a thick blanket of fog means that you can see nothing of the sort. [To get an idea of what I'm talking about, this photograph was taken from the same location on a clearer day.]

But back to the topic. Alas, the past few weeks I have myself been exhibiting a – child-enhanced – dementia-like propensity to misplace or forget things. The list is formidable:

• One bag of fruit and vegetables (a capsicum, two oranges, three mandarins, two carrots and an enormous swede);
• One wallet left on the bust (retrieved, sans cash);
• One carton of rice milk put in the microwave, and one cup of rice milk correspondingly put in the refrigerator;
• [and most seriously] One wedding ring that I increasingly suspect went down the bathroom drain.

So you know, after all, perhaps [wh]OOPS isn’t such a bad topic after all...

I cried when I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet. And then I laughed... really hard.

Henry would be a lot better at hide and seek if he didn't giggle so much.

"...You're a fool," he said calmly. "A man who has no shoes is a fool."

The work of building hospitals in the 1960s must have been an interesting time. One wonders why the task to construct the most featureless, boring, unattractive, ordinary-looking and dull buildings was taken up with such vigour. Here is the Argyle Street side of the Royal Hobart Hospital, and it's uniformity is surpassed only by its lack of character.

That said, both Henry and Ezra were born here, so it will hold some interest to future historians.

No man can produce great things who is not thoroughly sincere in dealing with himself.

As some of you may know, I have been blessed by two young sons. As a pair, they are both handsome, sly intelligent, ruthless spirited, despotic driven, arrogant confident, calculating thoughtful, insane exuberant and power-hungry keen to get involved.

One day, hopefully, they will run this country.

Where can you find pleasure? Search the world for treasure? Learn science technology? Where can you begin to make your dreams all come true?

A couple of weeks back I arrive at work, and who should I find waiting for me, patiently and orderly in rows just across the road from the front door? The Royal Australian Navy, that's who!

The HMAS Darwin is a long-range escort frigate [snigger snigger] that seems to be a jack of all trades vessel: area air defence, anti-submarine warfare, surveillance, reconnaissance and interdiction. In a potentially sexy turn of phrase, the ship is capable of countering simultaneous threats from the air, surface and sub-surface.

Quite.

The Navy refused to confirm or deny that the frigate [snigger snigger] was in town to prevent a flock of Mexican flying pigs from entering Tasmanian airspace and spreading the dreaded La temido gripe de cerdo Mexicana!

On that, actually, canny Swede Professor Hans Rosling has released a video well worth watching. Rosling has calculated the ratio of news article coverage versus actual deaths in the context of the recent La temido gripe de cerdo Mexicana outbreak.

In the 13 days up to May 6, the World Health Organisation [WHO] has confirmed that 25 countries are affected by La temido gripe de cerdo Mexicana, and 31 persons have died from La temido gripe de cerdo Mexicana. In an interesting point of comparison, WHO data also indicates that about 60,000 persons died from tuberculosis during that very same period. Rosling’s video explores that little dichotomy, and can be seen here.

Oh, and just because I made it up myself and enjoy saying it, one last time I am typing out La temido gripe de cerdo Mexicana!

I do what I have to do, although I don’t know why I have to.

Is that Paul Newman and Robert Redford?

A bit of post-production work in the endeavour to creative a 1960s film classic out of a photograph taken with difficult light. I'm considering it a success!

The best way to have a good idea is to have a lot of ideas.

Just combine a frosty morning, some fog settled on the river, and a gradually rising sun; and you've got yourself an interesting photo! Straight out of the tin this one.

At some point, ideas for blog posts must run a little dry. In the event of this, I feel it pertinent to break the glass and turn to YOU for ideas. So come on, what can I write about? Does anyone want to set me a challenge or ask me a question? You'd be doing me a favour...

Seeing a woman's child is like seeing a woman naked, in the way it changes how her face looks to you, how her face becomes less the whole story.

A Mother's Day treat today. Here you can see Jen and Ez all ready to pose for the camera, only to look away at the vital minute as Henry foolishly attempts a backflip somersault (with pike and half twist) from atop Soup 'n Juice in Wellington Arcade just off the Mall in town.

He managed to successfully land the thing, but controversially, the Russian judge knocked off half a point to see the Romanian win the cup.

Happy Mother's Day, especially to the two mothers in my life, who in my humble opinion (yet to be wrong yet!), are the BEST mums around.

Happiness is doing it rotten your own way.

A big ol' convict built warehouse with a small satellite dish, I'm not sure if this is art or not. I'll be honest with you though, I like the building, but I like the sky more!

Have a poem that Henry and I wrote in one minute and thirty seven seconds. It rhymes!

Smells

So I listen to the breeze
while trying to appease
my wife who did sneeze
and brought me to my knees.
She's such a naughty tease
with a penchant for sleaze
cripples me with ease and
it makes my heart seize.