A friend in power is a friend lost.

L'Astrolabe waits down in Salamanca. June, 2010.

The new job, a common cold, difficulties matching up bus schedules and the tricky art of walking around taking photos right outside a large girl's high school (right on the entrance to my new work site) mean that I haven't 'processed' any new images yet. Should get a few online by the weekend though.

I am pleased to report that I am settling in to the new position nicely. The hefty salary increase more than makes up for being rewarded with a ~~battery pen~~ cubicle smack bang in the middle of the top floor of my building. There's nothing quite like have a workstation within sight lines of everybody on the floor!

Comments

Roddy said…

The beauty of having everybody in sight is that you only have to raise your hand and call to the person whose attention you require. Also makes for a more open aspect to your position.
Your photography may have to take a more covert aspect. Wish you luck.

14 July 2010 at 09:00

Magpie said…

Love this photo. Glad you're settling in to the new job.

14 July 2010 at 13:46

Julie said…

Love the colours and the perspective.

15 July 2010 at 10:43

Kris McCracken said…

I am missing the waterfront stroll. That's about it though!

16 July 2010 at 11:43

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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