This will hurt me...

We watched Shrek the other evening.

Shrek one, as in the first.

Henry watched it right way through. 90 minutes.

A new record!

Geilston Bay power poles. June 2010.

A short while ago someone asked in the comments to see more of Geilston Bay, here's a start! Here's the view looking south towards the next suburb of Lindisfarne.

Geilston Bay itself is a small suburb of Hobart. Technically, it is located in the City of Clarence located on the Eastern Shore of the Derwent River Estuary. It is a suburb abundant with nature, with many houses built right next to the bushland (hence the impressive amount of dead native animals to be found squished on the highway).

In terms of 'attractions', well, there is the bay itself, with a Boat Club located a couple of hundred metres from our house.

There's the Shag Bay Aboriginal Site, but we're really just talking about piles of discarded mussel shells. I'll be honest and confess an anthropological bias: once you've seen Notre Dame Cathedral, a midden that dates a few hundred years more recent seems a bit humdrum.

There is also a local high school that is on its last legs, Geilston Bay High and a private Christian School. I suspect that the students of that school are in fact vampires because in all honesty, I've never actually seen any children there. Please note that I have lived not two hundred metres from the place for four years now.

To continue the excitement, there are not one but two local shops, not one of which is located on a corner. There is a butcher, a hairdressers, a pizza parlour, a radiator repairer. Sadly, we have no candlestick maker. Lindisfarne Village is 15 minutes walk away, and has the whole supermarket/bakery/French patisserie deal, so we're sorted on that score.

Right behind the Geilston Bay Community Centre (home of the Geilston Bay Playgroup), you'll find the Geilston Bay Tennis Club. These sit right next to the local football/cricket ground, home of the OHA Ships.

Get onto Google Maps, and you'll get the vibe.

He has a rock, and he's not afraid to use it.

Who do you think is in line for a chunk of Metamorphic between the eyes?

Are YOU a woman?

Do YOU wear a hat?

Is YOUR hat tight?

WARNING!!! WARNING!!! WARNING!!!

Did YOU know that 'physicians' say that tight hats are [probably] responsible for all those bald men that you see?

Think of THAT next time you find yourself strolling past the department store and have your fancy tickled by some snug-fitting feathery fascinator!

There's money to be made here... June, 2010.

The prospect of destroying all the evidence is an intriguing one, one that most of us wouldn't mind applying to facets of our own lives. Now, I'm not talking about some Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind expurgation of the self; I'm more about the elimination of proof.

What I am proposing is putting yourself in the clear. Suppose that you could discretely arrange for CONFIDENTIAL SECURITY SHREDDING to rock up and remove the evidence, would you do it?

Perhaps the question should be what would you do it for?

I'm going for some artsy fartsy framing here. This one is from Opossum Bay back in February. Obviously Henry is up close and personal. That's Mount Wellington in the extreme background, Taroona on the western shore and Jen and Ez wading in to wrestle some Great Whites.

I do believe that cranky Hanky is a good inch taller now than he is in this photograph.

Looking south-east from atop Mount Wellington. June, 2010.

I am not sure that I would like to live on top of a mountain. Sure, the views are fine and you can be assured of some peace and quiet. Yet supermarkets are thin on the ground and it gets pretty cold up on tops of mountains.

Do you live on top of a mountain?


Tasman Bridge on the left, Battery Point and Sandy Bay central, heading down to Taroona on the centre-left. That's Opossum Bay on the hook inlet of South Arm. June, 2010.

It turns out, when push comes to shove and the car lays broken down on the top of a mountain, Ezra is of as little use as his father in matters automotive.

Burst water mains can be annoying. May 2010.

Thankfully, we only went without water for a few hours. Henry did have to have a Pommy wash though, which upset him no end.

Time for today's Sunday Top Five, where I am listing my Current Top Five Favourite Podcasts! That's right, since children I now no longer watch TV, I listen to podcasts. In particular, I listen to these podcasts.

• Tell 'em Steve-Dave

Highlight? #18, where Walt explains his theory about midgets seducing paedophiles for the public good.


• Dan Carlin's Hardcore History
  

Highlight? #27-#30, a four part special - Ghosts of the Ost Front - exploring the German invasion of the Soviet Union, and Soviet response.


• It's Up For Grabs Now!

Highlight? 21/12/2009, where Alan abuses the Hull bench to the delight of the crowd.


• NPR All Songs Considered

Highlight? 10/2/2010 Breakup Songs. For the record, I don't mind Split Enz's I Hope I Never...


• BBC From Our Own Correspondent

Highlight? Hard to pick one, but I have enjoyed Dominic Hughes's stories from around the Baltic examining the impact of the economic crisis.

Dreamboat ala David Cassidy circa '74.

Caught by the fuzz. February, 2010.

Why is it that I feel guilty whenever I am around police? I never do anything wrong, and I generally have a positive attitude towards them. Perhaps it is my reptilian brain actively repressing something...

Happy As The Day Is Long, Edward Taylor

I take the long walk up the staircase to my secret room.
Today's big news: they found Amelia Earhart's shoe, size 9.
1992: Charlie Christian is bebopping at Minton's in 1941.
Today, the Presidential primaries have failed us once again.
We'll look for our excitement elsewhere, in the last snow
that is falling, in tomorrow's Gospel Concert in Springfield.
It's a good day to be a cat and just sleep.
Or to read the Confessions of Saint Augustine.
Jesus called the sons of Zebedee the Sons of Thunder.
In my secret room, plans are hatched: we'll explore the Smoky Mountains.
Then we'll walk along a beach: Hallelujah!
(A letter was just delivered by Overnight Express--
it contained nothing of importance, I slept through it.)
(I guess I'm trying to be "above the fray.")
The Russians, I know, have developed a language called "Lincos"
designed for communicating with the inhabitants of other worlds.
That's been a waste of time, not even a postcard.
But then again, there are tree-climbing fish, called anabases.
They climb the trees out of stupidity, or so it is said.
Who am I to judge? I want to break out of here.
A bee is not strong in geometry: it cannot tell
a square from a triangle or a circle.
The locker room of my skull is full of panting egrets.
I'm saying that strictly for effect.
In time I will heal, I know this, or I believe this.
The contents and furnishings of my secret room will be labeled
and organized so thoroughly it will be a little frightening.
What I thought was infinite will turn out to be just a couple
of odds and ends, a tiny miscellany, miniature stuff, fragments
of novelties, of no great moment. But it will also be enough,
maybe even more than enough, to suggest an immense ritual and tradition.
And this makes me very happy.

Ezra does his Khrushchev impression:

Whether you like it or not, history is on our side. We will bury you!

It's terribly good.

Shags on a rock at Hinsby Beach. May 2010.

These fellows are the dreaded Black-faced Cormorant (Phalacrocorax fuscescens), also known as the Black-faced Shag. As you can see, it is a medium-sized member of the cormorant family. Noticeably, its upperparts, including facial skin and bill, are black, with white underpants. It is endemic to coastal regions of southern Australia, and feeds largely on small coastal fish is prone to feasting of the brains of pirates.

Really.


Shag, shag, shag, shag, shag, shag and shag. May 2010.

Sand worm, or sand?

You decide.

Watch out for those spikey conkers! April, 2010

Theme Thursday and I'm surrounded by Lego Duplo.

I'm trying to be funny, but all of my best material is a little BLUE for this audience.