This will hurt me...

He is Ezra looking like something out of a Calvin Klein advertisement, only this time with his shirt on. Here's a challenge, what would you call the toilet water eau de cologne that this bloke is trying to shift here? I'm only after one word...

A familiar view here in Geilston Bay the past three or four months. That, coupled with grizzling children caked in snot has ensured our share of [ahem] interesting evenings. I did consult with the most recent guide to the Geneva Convention rules and regulations, and wouldn't you know it, there, on page 367, full colour prints of Henry and Ezra! Designated deliverers of cruel and unusual torture , it reckons...

Henry, hard at work trying to crack the Da Vinci code. Quick tip Henry, it was Judas .

No, it isn't the Battleship Potemkin, it's a little navy patrol boat turning its back to the Aurora Australis in a nice golden morning sunshine. It's almost like a duel. I found myself the other evening repeating a familiar refrain I am sure is not simply one from my childhood: "how dare you sit there an not eat any of that food there it's good food nice food lovingly cooked and there are starving children in Africa who are stuck eating rocks and dirt just to have something in their tummy because they are so hungry that it hurts so much that they eat those rocks and dirt and here you are telling me that you don't want it." I want to know, what did people tell their kids in generations before? Did they riff on Africa as my parents did, referring to the poor bloated Ethiopians routinely on the nightly news at that point (occasionally chucking in the odd outdated reference to Biafrans or Bangladeshis)?

I posted a photo last week (early this week?) of Henry exploring the delights of the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery. It's not just Henry and fossils that happens there though, as Ez is showing signs of interest in a geological sense. NO you filthy buggers, G E O L O G I C A L . ROCKS , not ladies' bits . Get your minds out of the gutter. That said, the gutter is the best place to view the stars...

Water jets in Franklin Square, Winter '09 . Theme Thursday today, and what a task I have! The theme is RHYTHM, so I set myself the goal this morning of penning a lightning fast drabble on today’s them on my way to work on the bus this morning. Alas, my trusty notebook was elsewhere! Thus, I fished out a receipt from the fresh fruit market in Salamanca [APPLES GRANNY SMITH SML KG], and set about squeezing out 100 words on the back. I’m glad to say that I had the requisite number done and dusted by the time I hit the bridge and was able to dip back in to Dame Rebecca West’s interesting little tale The Return of the Soldier . Let’s take the easy way out and call this one RHYTHM . The rhythm of their relationship was a familiar one. He worshipped her, she loathed him. He adored her, she was disgusted . He would whisper the sweetest, gentlest paeans of his affection into her lovely ear as they made love, and she would shun his offerings a cat might a command. When he arrived home, h

This is Henry's angry face. I am reasonably certain that is uncannily like the face I pulled last night after spending an hour slaving away over a hot stove cooking dinner after spending eight hours slaving away over a hot computer only to have my oldest child turn his nose up and refuse to eat one single thing on his plate, telling me that it was "yukky". I will concede that the rissoles were dry, and the roast veg a little overdone, but it all tasted okay. How could he be so certain when he didn't taste it anyway?!?

The statue of Abel Tasman stoically looks upon the Dutch flag on a sunny Hobart day. Of course, this morning it is raining yet again, and Abel is enjoying the chance to have the bird poo washed off his lovely Lutjegasti head. Abel seemed like a good bloke, even if he was a bit of a suck. Upon being the first European to stumble upon this fine island, he promptly named it Van Diemen's Land , in honour of his boss – Anthony van Diemen – head honcho of the Dutch East Indies, a bloke with big dreams and deep pockets who had visions of a grand Dutch empire that would extend into the “Great Southern Land”. So he sent Abel down here in 1642, a good year for most not named Charles I. Despite its obvious charms, the Dutch didn’t think much of the joint. Lazy buggers, the Dutch East India Company reckoned Tasman's explorations were a letdown: he had neither found a promising area for trade nor a useful new shipping route. With no existing thriving communities to leach upon – the Dutch (a

How about that drool? It makes kissing all the more exciting! I forgot to mention that on Fathers Day, we all went boat spotting down on the harbour estuary, promenaded along the waterfront, and then feasted on squid, prawns, chips and the like for an early lunch. Whilst doing so, I spotted a fellow with a ruddy great video camera - of the professional kind - filming us. It turns out he was filming some 'colour' for Al Jazeera's English language TV station. He liked the look of Henry harassing seagulls so much, the little bloke had to do it over and over again until the Arabic news network agent was satisfied with the results. So, if you're a fan of Al Jazeera, keep and eye out for any stories on Hobart, Tasmania, Australia, or small westerners who disturb sea birds. If you spot us, let me know!

A solitary lamp post on Elizabeth Street in the early afternoon makes a lonely sight... So after a decent weekend, weather-wise, I again have the rich harmonies of Supertramp buzzing around my head. For you see, It's Raining Again [...Oh no, my love's atanend...] I'm not sure why my brain settled on a moderately successful single from 1982 to soundtrack this morning, but it has. I'm happy with Supertramp buzzing around my head though, as I generally stick to humming it. Heaven forbid I get Creedence Clearwater Revival's Have You Ever Seen The Rain? , as I can't help but belt out the chorus to all and sundry. Thus I come to today's Tuesday Q and A! Do you have a song that you can't resist singing out aloud to? What is it?

I swear that when Henry knows that he's in trouble, and you're set to give him a right royal bollocking - a father's privilege - his eyes grow larger. I call it the animé effect. I'm just glad I had boys, I'm certain that the animé effect for girls involves parasols, frilly knickers and lots of bending over...

Self portrait in a car park, August 2009. As the only lady in the house packed to the gunwales of testosterone, poor Jen suffers intolerably . Even dear, sweet, lovely little Ezra™ has embraced with great vigour the masculine world of balls, drums, wild animals, mixed martial arts and random shouting. That said, Henry has his oven and has established a keen interest in the kitchen, even if his spiel is more Gordon Ramsey than Julia Child. He’s also shown an eagerness to learn the fine art of knitting (i.e. stabbing me with the needles and lynching his little people with the wool). He enjoys the supermarket (“What’s that daddy?” “What’s that daddy?” “What’s that daddy?” “What’s that daddy?” “What’s that daddy?” “What’s that?” “ What’s that? ” “ WHAT’S THAT? ”) We have Colin – the baby dolly introduced to Henry when we learned that Ez was on his way. Henry enjoys bathing Colin, wrapping Colin, changing Colin, dressing Colin, putting Colin to bed, feeding Colin, throwing Colin at me. Th

"You talkin' to me?" "You talkin' to me?" " You talkin' to me? " "Then who the hell else are you talkin' to?" "You talkin' to me?" "Well I'm the only one here. Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"

It's morning, it's spring, it's Hobart, it's the sea, it's boats, it's sunshine! You know what that means? It's PIRATE TIME! Oh wait, no it isn't. It's FATHER'S DAY. Sunday Top Five! My Top Five Children : 1. [tied] Henry and Ezra. 3. [unfilled] 4. [N/A] 5. [late scratching]