This will hurt me...

I keep telling him that bluefin tuna don't hang around bays. Does he listen? BAH!

Lurking behind a field of randy sheep, the Mount Pleasant Radio Observatory , a radio astronomy-based observatory owned and operated by University of Tasmania. It can be found about twenty kilometres east of Hobart, not far out of Richmond. Apologies for the poor shot, but there is only so much one can manage from a moving vehicle. The observatory was [probably] set up as part some kind of interferometry network, no doubt engaged in the thrilling task of imaging distant cosmic radio sources, tracking spacecraft, and all sorts of sexy applications in astrometry. of course, such is the nature of these little beauties, it can also be used "in reverse" to perform earth rotation studies, map movements of tectonic plates very precisely (within millimetres), and a whole host of other types of geodesy That said, I have it on good authority that a shortage of funds means that this observatory has now been reduced to tawdry attempts at securing "panty shots" of c-list celeb

Here is Ezra. He's a bit sad after I told him some very distressing news. In the hoopla of Michael Jackson's demise, it would be a great tragedy if the passing of Mrs Slocombe went by without mention. All of our thoughts and prayers are, of course, with Mrs Slocombe's pussy in this difficult time.

Here is the view of Mount Wellington looking west from Hunter Street, across the fish punts and overpriced over-rated boutique fish and chip joints that can be found down along the waterfront... Hang on... Hang on... I've just got to interupt today's post to cross to my LA correspondent who is waiting outside Michael Jackson's Neverland compound ranch. Me in Hobart: "Dave, Dave can you hear me?" Dave in LA: [Silence as Dave scratches his nose and looks bored] Me in Hobart: "Dave, are you with me now?" Dave in LA: "Yes Kris. The media have thronged to Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch here 200 miles out of LA." Me in Hobart: "So Dave, do you have an update for us?" Dave in LA: "Well, there is a lot of people about. And a lot of media vans." Me in Hobart: "Can you confirm that former king of pop, Michael Jackson - responsible for such hits as Thriller , Bad and Say, Say, Say - remains dead?" Dave in LA: &qu

I had a question regarding Henry's gumboots the other day . I should hope that the above photo aptly demonstrates the need for gumboots in a wet Hobart winter. Puddles , you see. It's all about the puddles.

First, a definition: Budgie Smugglers A male bathing costume that encloses the wearer's genitalia in a manner that resembles the concealment of a budgerigar. The establishment that I feature above, Budgie Smugglers , is a takeaway joint that can be found on Collins Street here in Hobart. As the name suggests, they no doubt consider themselves a funky dive. It is Theme Thursday you see. Today's theme is a word that sends shivers up my spine: FUNKY . Funky , you see, is a loaded term. Of course, those etymologists amongst us will recognise the root from the Latin, fetid ; that is, offensively malodorous . 'A foul odour ', if you will. It is certainly what I think when someone starts getting funky on my arse. That is because funky is a dated term that is meant to denote something stylish and modern in an unconventional way . As with most things, this terribly unconventional tendency is now a convention. Thus, all those I know who have embraced funky as both a word an

Here is and extreme close up of Ezra, who has recently recovered from the very same does of the influenza that has wrought havoc with my mind and body these week. Suffice to say, the little bloke has pulled through with far more vigour and vitality than I think I will (should I survive, that is). Ezra has been achieving a number of milestones of late, not least that of standing up unaided and walking . For those interested, I will be posting a video of these marvellous feats either today or tomorrow (again, provided I have not joined Michael Jackson the that great Neverland in the sky...) In other news: this post is number 1,250 on this blog! Congratulations blog. Cards, presents and brown paper bags filled with cash should be directed to: Att/Of:Kris McCracken Tasmania Australia

Looking through a crack in a wall yields little result. At the very least I was expecting a fair maiden bathing herself. I'm still laid up with the dreaded flu. Not much more to say...

Look! Who'd have thought that Tom Cruise might be spotted in Geilston Bay. It's little known that the orgy scene from the heroically boring Eyes Wide Shut was actually filmed at Geilston Bay High School. But upon second glance, I'm not too sure that this is Tom Cruise. For one thing, he's far too tall.

Sunday was a nice, clear, cold winter's day. At the moment, I will take what I can get. Here is the view south down the Derwent estuary. I'm laid up in bed with whatever it was that has been troubling Henry. Symptoms include a hacking cough, chest pain, an upset stomach, and a general lethargy akin to being stuck at work late. I do believe that today will be the first time ever that I actually taken a sick day. I expect that admission to see me stripped of my title of "Australian", where the Great Australian Sickie is revered more than any frivolous claim to, I dunno, curing cancer.

Nigh on three months old, here is a regal Ez checking the mail. A truncated post this evening, as Henry is feeling poorly, and he may well have passed on the La temido gripe de cerdo Mexicana ...

It's been a week since I last posted a photo of 10 Murray, and I thought " that just won't do ", and went with this one. I particularly like the little ladders on the extreme left. I've long speculated that this is for harried DHHS staff, who've hastily decided to end it all with a swan dive down to Parliament's car park, but changed their mind (or indeed, while on the ledge, decided to 'get more height'). Here's a poem: Larry Larry's got it going on going on going on Larry's got to get going going gone down south left at the side of Larry's got it going on down south.

One suspects that this is one of those "He's going to resent this in the future" kind of snaps, but I've decided that I'm posting it anyway. We're a week into what I am calling toilet turkey , a titanic tussle to topple terrible toddler habits; namely, pooing one's pants. But I ask you, does this like a fellow ready to ditch the world of cloth nappies and thrust himself headlong into a world of cisterns, u-bends, bowls and urinals?

Here is a seagull looking for a place to go. I have it on good authority - an authority of distinct totalitarian bent named Henry - that this seagull's name is "Constantin", and that he is headed to Glasgow to buy a pizza. I captured this fellow down in Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne down the road from Geilston Bay, not the tidal island off the north-east English coast most famous for being sacked by angry Vikings. Given that, the pizza is most likely going to be cold by the time he gets there. Today's Sunday Top Five Ten ! My personal favourite Ten Michael Jackson tracks (in chronological order): I Want You Back ABC Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough Billie Jean Beat It Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' Man in the Mirror Dirty Diana Smooth Criminal Liberian Girl For mine, the stand out is Billie Jean (one of the all time great pop tracks), but all of them are terribly good , and come highly recommended.