This will hurt me...

This one is from way back in early-May, as Ezra decided to tackle the gruelling ultra marathon-esque Mother's Day Classic ( FOUR excruciatingly difficult kilometres of terrain). Somewhat typically, Ez opted to take a back seat, leaving Henry to take the glory in the prime role. I like to think of Ezra as Friedrich Engels to Henry's Karl Marx .

I took this photo back in February, down in the Salamanca district. As you can see, there are four Zebra Finches perched on the neck of what may or may not be an authentic Les Paul . The guitar was plugged in and run through a distortion pedal to an expensive stack of Marshall amps. The finches themselves were strumming out what sounded like to my ears the outro to a song I like very much: Elton John's 1972 paen to astronauts and cosmonauts the world over, Rocket Man (I Think It's Going to Be a Long, Long Time) . Like me, they like Elton's old stuff much better than his new stuff (by new stuff, I'm talking post-1983). Quick question to the mob though, what do you think is going on here? What's the point supposed to be?

Here is a special "beefcake shot" for Henry's friend Evie, who visited today. He's not stopped talking about her all afternoon. I think that he's smitten.

Unfortunately this has been indicative of the kind of morning that I have been setting off into of late. Here is the up the highway towards my bus stop on Monday morning. The fog is okay, because it generally means that I won't get rained on... I thought that in the spirit of inclusiveness, I'd give you a list of Things I Don't Like : Vampires People who like vampires. Fairies. Adults who dress like fairies. Those hats that people buy at Salamanca Market with leopard print trim and fuzz at the top. People who wear those hats that people buy at Salamanca Market with leopard print trim and fuzz at the top. Overly sensitive television personalities. People who say "It shouldn't be a problem, I don't think" when they really mean "I think that it shouldn't be a problem". Men who carry umbrellas. People who are really friendly to you when you're taking photographs, then walk away in disgust when they find out that you're not foreign at all,

Here is a shot of the back of Jen's head and the handsome young Ezra promenading down the main street of Richmond. We had just brunched on tea, scones with raspberry jam and clotted cream and set to walk it off to Australia's oldest bridge . Yes people, the pride of Richmond is over one hundred and seventy-five years old . That will impress those of you living in cities that were settled in 600 AD! To answer a question from the comments, Ezra is closing in on his first birthday (minus one month and eight days). If anyone wishes to send cash, please feel free to do so.

Oh lord, here we are back at Theme Thursday again. It just keeps coming in quicker and quicker... Above, you can see two blokes happily eating Vegemite sandwiches, checking out the local talent, and no doubt amusing each other with snippets of Foucault’s Discipline and Punish . All the while, the gently SWING in gentle Hobartian breeze. Of course, a normal person would leave it at that. I had a manageable theme – SWING – I had an appropriate photograph, but no , that won’t do. You see, this week I saw the topic and one thing leaped immediately to mind. What that says about my mind is another matter, as it reveals a sort of degeneracy and perversion that I hope you have come to expect from me by now. I didn’t think “toddlers in playgrounds”, “the graceful arc of the cricket bat” or indeed “dancers moving in rhythm to the band”. No, I thought about SWINGING. SWINGERS and the filthy, grubby SWINGING LIFESTYLE. Now, for the non-swingers out there, SWINGING refers to "non-monogamous s

So this morning you got the mountain (with bonus snow) as seen from Salamanca, this evening you are treated to a Henry-eye view of the mountain as it overlooks Geilston Bay (without snow). He told me that eventually he will own this bay, and every yacht within it. Fingers crossed.

Here is a special, [almost] real time post this morning. It was as cold as a loveless marriage this morning, and the culprit was revealed as I arrived in town and finally saw the mountain! It's been hidden behind clouds for the best part of a fortnight (almost non-stop rain), but today it emerged plastered in snow.

Here I am training Ezra to avoid the cars on the road. As you can see, he scoffs at danger. Some say that one picture is worth a thousand words. I happen to think that one picture of Ezra is worth 1 billion words.

I do miss the days when anti-psychotic drugs were mass marketed to the community. Who hasn't wished for a script of Thorazine/Largactil when faced with a cranky old bastard moaning about not having enough sugar in his tea, the paucity of bananas in his childhood or the lack of Vera Lynne on the radio these days. Yet why stop there, look at that list of symptoms: hostility; irritability; abusiveness; incessant talking; restlessness... I have an idea:

Here is a monkey - a Japanese Macaque to be precise - with a lemonade Icy Pole . Most probably, this monkey has venereal disease. As soon as I tell you that, you will know that we must be in Launceston ! Launceston is an interesting city, it's record-breaking in many ways: Launceston was the location of the first use of anaesthetic in the Southern Hemisphere; it was the first Australian city to have underground sewers; the first Australian city to be lit by hydroelectricity; it is widely recognised as the " blockie " capital of Australia; and last (but certainly not least), it has the highest parentage of VD-infected Japanese Macaque monkeys living within its municipal boundaries. Take a bow Launceston!

Here's another from the Hits 'n Memories basket. This was taken at around the time that Henry started standing up unaided. We're getting serious flashbacks now - to the point that the post-traumatic stress long suspected is almost confirmed - as Ezra begins that constant test of endless attempts to climb into the oven, get his hands on the steak knives, scale up the pantry, rewire the heat pump on and on and on it goes... Oh yes, they look all sweet and innocent with their chubby little thighs, beatific grins and ebullient zest for life. Yet, on a daily basis, this zest takes on an ephemeral quality. All of this want need to learn at every single point through the day wears you down .

From the look of these signs, the folks are pretty negative around the Geilston Bay Boat Club. Obviously oars are not forbidden, as there was a healthy smattering of oars littered about the joint. No work today. We have a holiday. Apparently it is the Queen's Birthday . So, happy birthday Ian Thorpe. I hope that you have a good day, and thanks for the day off.

Here is Ez doing his best matinee idol squint into the sun. He is wearing a bib, but I reckon it could pass for a bandanna, a-la Clint Eastwood in A Fistful of Dollars . He is an amazing young fellow, my Ezra. Somehow he manages to straddle the line between Goethe, the outlaw Josey Wales, and James Hird. It can't be easy.

There's nothing finer than a shag in the shallows on a public beach! Here is a fine specimen hustling up some grub looking south from Howrah beach mere days ago. So yesterday you got LOVE, today you get HATE: 1. Most Hated Food: NUTS! Peanuts mainly. Not really a nut I know, but the list of things that can kill me is not a short one: peanuts, pine nuts, almonds, hazelnuts, walnuts, cashews, pistachios, macadamias, and they are just the ones I know about! Vile, detestable things! 2. Most Hated Person: I can't just pick one. I generally don't like people who think and carry themselves as if they are learned or broad-minded when in fact they are as - if not more - ignorant, narrow-minded or judgemental than those they look down upon. Unfortunately, there is no shortage of such people. 3. Most Hated Job: Any job where you find yourself getting lumped with work that should be done by those being paid twice as much as you (and they're off eating cake...) 4. Most Hated City: T