This will hurt me...

Occasionally, Henry looks like a younger, cleaner cut Keef Richards.

I need to get him a bandanna.

A couple of buoys, waiting for some girls, down in Sullivan's Cove. There are boats everywhere in Hobart at them moment.

Sameness, by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Over all hilltops
is peace
in all the treetops
you feel
barely a breeze;
The birds in the forest have
stopped their song
Wait, before long
you too will be still.

If Jen, Henry and Ezra ever started a three piece post-punk combo - Jen drums, Ezra bass/vocals, Henry guitar/vocals - I'd use this photo for on the inner sleeve.

Two questions remain though, what do I call the band? And, what is the album called?

Ezra spied these little fellows paddling around the pond at the Botanical Gardens here in Hobart. They're ducks, by the way, not tigers.

Today's poem?

The Duck, by Ogden Nash

Behold the duck.
It does not cluck.
A cluck it lacks.
It quacks.
It is specially fond
Of a puddle or pond.
When it dines or sups,
It bottoms ups.

Henry received a guitar for Christmas. He fancies himself as a balladeer in the vein of a John B. Sebastian or Richie Havens, but he sounds more like an incredibly drunk Bob Dylan.

I see big things on his horizon.

The Tasman Bridge is a five-lane bridge crossing the Derwent River, near the CBD of Hobart, Tasmania. It connects us on the Eastern Shore - the best shore, not just because of Henry and Ezra, but also the location of the Hobart International Airport, the Geilston Bay Community Centre, as well as the home of the 2006/7 Sheffield Shield winners the Tasmanian Tigers (Bellerive Oval) - with the dregs on the other side. The bridge itself if 1,395 metres long, and has a pedestrian foot way on each side for those willing to risk the winds.

Today's poem? Australian Kenneth Slessor's Beach Burial

Softly and humbly to the Gulf of Arabs
The convoys of dead sailors come;
At night they sway and wander in the waters far under,
But morning rolls them in the foam.

Between the sob and clubbing of the gunfire
Someone, it seems, has time for this,
To pluck them from the shallows and bury them in burrows
And tread the sand upon their nakedness;

And each cross, the driven stake of tidewood,
Bears the last signature of men,
Written with such perplexity, with such bewildered pity,
The words choke as they begin -

'Unknown seaman' - the ghostly pencil
Wavers and fades, the purple drips,
The breath of wet season has washed their inscriptions
As blue as drowned men's lips,

Dead seamen, gone in search of the same landfall,
Whether as enemies they fought,
Or fought with us, or neither; the sand joins them together,
Enlisted on the other front.

Ez and I headed down the the Botanical Gardens the other day to re-enact that scene from The Sound of Music where Julie Andrews runs down the hill spinning before gunning down the Waffen-SS squad sent to ship her off to Sobidor sing a merry tune.

Thus I have two images for the price of one. Above, I've gone for the full CinemaScope vibe, with a fair bit of post-production work. Below is the more straightforward shot. The question I ask is, which do you like?

Seagulls, council buildings, museum roofs, flags, it's all happening here!

Today the gang and I are headed up to the loveliest coast of Tasmania - the North West Coast - for some well earned rest [HAH!]. As Internet access will be uneven, if at all, I'm programming the robot again to take care of the posting while we're on the road.

I've instructed him to scan the archives and post some of my favourite poems each morning. Consider this week my very own Poetry Festival. Feel free to share your picks if you think I'm backing duds.

First up?

i like my body when it is with your, e.e. cummings

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh… And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

Nothing says "Parliament lawns" more than jumping castle. Here you can see Henry and Ezra, plus some other kid who literally stood bolt upright and perfectly still for five minutes.

Perhaps he was in awe of the terrible tremendous twosome?

Here's a felt sandwich that Jen made the boys for Christmas. The choices are limited, but if you'd like some mix of ham, Jarlsberg cheese, tomato, lettuce and beetroot on white bread, and don't mind not being able to eat it; this sandwich is for you!

Which brings me to today's Sunday Top Five: My Top Five Sandwich Fillings!

1) Cheese: I'm a cheese man: Double Gloucester; Wensleydale; Gouda; Cheshire; Provolone; Edam; Limberger; Lancashire; Mozzarella; Havarti; Mascarpone; Gołka; Camembert; Tilsit; Gruyère; Brie; Fetta; Gorgonzola; Red Windsor; Red Leicester; Quark; Chèvre; Ricotta on and on and on it goes. Today however, I can't go past a nice mature smoked Cheddar!

2) Salami: Like cheese, the varieties are endless. I can't look past a spicy Hungarian though...

3) Tomato: fresh from the garden!

4) Lettuce: a crisp and fresh cos will do.

5) Beetroot: you know what they say...

I like to call this series Ezra³.

The water taxi chugs its way across the Derwent River Estuary towards Sullivan's Cove, perhaps from the Geilston Bay pier, loaded with cranky toddlers ready to hit the pubs and clubs and give the usual gang of pissed idiots a run for their money.

One can only hope!

A small boy who thinks that he's a big boy sitting on park bench in Cornelian Bay. Note the seagull on the upper left, the Tasman Bridge in the centre right, as well as the boatsheds on the right. The boatsheds burned down the day after this photo was taken, and no, I don't let Henry play with matches.

These fish have undoubtedly seen better days. The orange fellow in particular seems surprised at his predicament. Henry and I took this snap at the fish mongers at Mures Lower Deck.

There is a cruel beauty in the fact that I live in a place that has the world's greatest seafood, and I'm not much of a fan of fish. That said, a nice bit of squid, octopus and the odd John Dorey, and I'll be right!