Everywhere is within walking distance if you have the time.

Coming in to land at Hobart International Airport (as seen from Seven Mile Beach). February, 2010.

By the time that this post appears, I shall have already been up in a plane - very much like this one - and stalking the mean streets of Melbourne. I'm hoping that I manage to escape the hotbed of gangland mayhem and murder without a hit being taken out on me.

Thankfully, three things rest in my favour: i) it's a fly in and out all in the one day; ii) I'm not sure that the drug king pins are too fussed by me; iii) there is an ever increasing shortage of drug king pins to be fussed.

Comments

Magpie said…

Safe journey!

21 April 2010 at 08:46

Roddy said…

I don't think a stroll across Bass Strait would be all that dry.
Did you look up your grandfather while you were in Melbourne? Ha Ha.
I can't work out why you were in Melbourne, but I trust you were successful.

21 April 2010 at 12:55

Vince said…

"without a hit" being taken out on you!
hilarious !!

GO BOMBERS versus Pies on the weekend....gee that Naitanui has got lots of good things happening in the one package.

Taskunas

21 April 2010 at 13:48

Julie said…

Did you read this take on the late-lamented CW?

http://www.thescrivenersfancy.com/scarcely-relevant/2010/04/21/blood-everywhere.aspx

22 April 2010 at 09:45

Kris McCracken said…

Magpie, made it!

Roddy, into the airport, taxi to the city, into a big building, all day meeting, quick nip up the road to buy some wool, taxi to the airport, home. That was my trip!

Vince, I only just made it back. Has the football season started?

Julie, oh I enjoyed that one very much!

22 April 2010 at 10:14

Roddy said…

Sounds like some of the meetings I had to attend at various times in a past life. In and gone before you even knew you had arrived. The boring bit in the middle? Sometimes we got to eat cake. Were you so lucky?

22 April 2010 at 12:31

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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