This will hurt me...

Here is a dude on a mission to rescue a few tens hundreds thousands millions of starfish in one morning alone. Some might suggest that such peregrination is a fruitless exercise, but Henry says " NO! " If it is good enough for a few dozen whales, we can spend the day tossing stiff and lifeless starfishies back into the sea. A pelagic panacea? Perhaps. But, like the boy with the barrow, the job was in front of us.

The late afternoon sun through trees devoid of foliage, and yes, that is indeed 10 Murray Street again. That building appears to follow me around wherever I go. I like the sharp patterns generated by the light through the barren limbs of trees that you find in winter and autumn. One of the real bonuses of living here in Tasmania is that we have four very distinct seasons, which always keeps things changing [just] enough to keep one sane.

Update. Tonight Ezra ate one whole turnip , and one whole Dutch Cream potato . Henry didn't touch his turnip. However, Henry ate a liberal amount of Polish Sausage and a handful of oven baked potato chips . By my calculations, and at this rate, Ezra shall surpass Henry in size and muscle mass in thirteen months , whereupon he will be the one burying the other in the sand at the beach.

There are a few of these fences dotted about the Battery Point area. I think that they are far more interesting up nice and close than they are when viewed from a distance. I had to go to Launceston for work yesterday. I hated it. I did, however, see a monkey eating an icy pole. Photos to come.

Henry, he might not be esculent, but he certainly is loquacious. I've had a long day.

Theme Thursday again and I stretch both my credibility – as well as the credulity of you, dear readers – to establish a link between today’s theme, a photograph of mine, some text AND (it seems) the title. Thus, with no small sleight of hand I present the photograph above. The scene of a crime? NCIS: Howrah Beach? A case of le mal d'étoiles de la grippe du Havre in flagrante delicto ? A man, his wife (baby strapped on but unseen), and toddler armed with an assortment of rocks, seashells and other flotsam, jetsam and whatnot in his hands? Have you guessed the theme yet? SUITCASE . Suitcase? “A rectangular case used for carrying clothes and other belongings during travel”. Dude. Suitcase?!?? What am I supposed to do with that? However, it just so happens that... [FADE INTO DREAM-LIKE SEQUENCE, ACCOMPANIED BY A FULL STRUM OF A HARP] It started like a any other Sunday, surrounded by empty gin bottles and haphazardly discarded undergarments. After pancakes, we ventured out, looking ...

For a baby, Ez is an adroit little bloke. When he isn't gambolling through meadows of wildflowers or engaged in a romantic imbroglio with some ingenue, he can usually be found on the swings.

Sometimes the morning brings with it such sunshine of which dreams are made. This sunshine presents a five minute window whereby the reflection off the McMansions on the hill renders them quite interesting (whereupon the sun shifts, and they revert to hideously ugly monstrosities that are a blight on the landscape). Fun fact of the day! I like the song Fat Bottomed Girls in an equal but opposite correlation to the song Bicycle Race . Think of it as Queen with magnets .

On Sunday, we all went for a gambol down on Howrah Beach. Henry, in his infinite wisdom, felt the need to stop every two metres to take the pulse of every dried up starfish. It was quite tragic really, there appears to be have been a pandemic amongst the Howrah starfish community. Henry whipped out his magnifying glass and came to a grave conclusion: le mal d'étoiles de la grippe du Havre !

If you haven't already guessed, I'm a sucker for photographs featuring odd angles, and am forever drawn to boats. So when I managed to fuse the two in a harmonious rhapsody, I am a happy fellow indeed. So today I present to you a rat's eye view of the fine brigantine, Windeward Bound . I was intrigued to find some raised eyebrows the other day when I expressed disdain for the work of one K. Hepburn. I’ve always found her a dull and interminable actor, forever locked into playing the same feisty, offbeat scallywag. Now, I appreciate her bucking the norm, but a combination of red hair and that frankly grating toff accent firmly puts her in my “can’t stand” pile, and they fact that such an elitist shrew acts as some kind of cynosure for “strong women” displeases me. In honour of Dame Katherine, I wish to begin a Katie Hepburn Dis honour Role of sacred cows. Some time ago , I entered into the dangerous territory of naming and shaming people or creative endeavours that annoy m...

Personally, I think that the drool in this photo carries a certain je ne sais quoi . Sure, on the missus after a big night out, it's not a great look, but a ten month old gets a degree of grace in this regard. I took this one with Ez sitting on our front lawn as we gave Henry a bit of space on Saturday. Pros and Cons of Toddlers Part Five Pro #5: They're LOVING . Henry tells me at least ten times a day that he loves me. Sure, it's often followed by requests for lolly snakes, but I think that he means it. Con #4: They're ROUGH . Henry has been known to fatten my lip, graze my brow, bruise both shins, dislocate my pinkie finger and rupture my left kidney, all at the same time. And that is just goodnight kisses!

Here is a treat for the Henry fans out there: the big little bloke screaming all the while on a swing! This one is fresh off the presses and was taken just yesterday morning, as we went on a long hike to give Ez a better chance of sleep.

Despite the morning fog, you can't keep the bright orange paint of the Aurora Australias under wraps for too long! It is a wonderful sight in the mist, and a pity that it is wasted on a journey into work. Go on, have a poem. again The dissolution of an agreement, and disassociated from his very being, Desmond was disgusted. Disallowed an explanation and discouraged from discussion, this distorted his disadvantage. The discomfort upon discovering the distasteful details of dishonesty, Desmond discontinued to care.

Despite his usual late afternoon/early evening reversion to a modern day scoundrel (more Ungern von Sternberg than Dennis the Menace), this blast from the past reminds me that my love for my oldest baby is will be sempiternal, however many vegetables he refuses to eat. Yes, it's Henry and I the morning after his birth (earlier that morning). You can see that he was a bit battered and bruised by the whole experience. Maybe that explains his attitude of late, perhaps it is post-traumatic stress?

Here's a close up of a knot on a tree in the park. It was right at the top of the tree, but I had no need to climb it. Such is the power of the zoom! Here are five unimportant facts about me: I am 193 centimetres tall. I am considerably younger than my old dear wife. It is something like THREE months. I like lists. I hate Katherine Hepburn. I find her a ye olde version of Nicole Kidman, and I rank Nicole Kidman right up there with spinal meningitis. I am going to the beach right now.