This will hurt me...

I'm tearing through my rapidly deminishing photographs of our day in the snow. Here is Ezra looking decidedly impressed by the bonding capacities of snow on wool. Try as I might though, I struggled to get them to accept the concept that very soon that snow will be water. Of course, they very much understood it when we got back in town and their pants were dripping wet...

Authorised by whom? East Derwent Highway, Geilston Bay. October 2010 Like the velociraptors in Jurassic Park , my children's brains are evolving . And like that movie, it is dangerous and terrifying . Take - for instance - the discussion that I had with Henry the other evening. After reports from the Oberaufseherin about rude and unruly behaviour for the second straight day, I assumed my fatherly voice (i.e. drop a couple of octaves and talk slowly) and queried the lad. After confirming that yes, Henry had stretched the bonds of maternal love that day, I expressed my bitter disappointment in the lad, as he had "promised to be a good boy" that morning. "Oh no," interjected the (not very-) guilty party, " you're wrong daddy !" A rueful shake of the head on my part, and a tired, "In what way am I wrong Henry?" "I only promised to try and be a good boy." What could I do? He was correct. I didn't expect such semantics at age f

Just when you think that he has that whole apple juice problem licked, off the wagon .

The art of subtly is not dead! Campbell Street, Hobart. November 2010. A couple of books to tackle this week, one a sombre reflection on Poland’s troubled history through the twentieth century; the second a riotous romp through the Edwardian era that touches on every perversion known to man! The former is Mercedes-Benz , by Pawel Huelle. Huelle is one of the most eminent modern Polish writers. Mercedes-Benz has an unrelenting narrative that drives (literally) through the defining moments of modern Polish history. Truthfully, you have never read sentences this long, but the style does complement the tale. Constructed in the format of a descriptive letter to Czech writer Bohumil Hrabal, the book fuses the challenge of driving lessons in the early-1990's Gdańsk, with the broader story of Pawel's father, grandfather and the fate of Poland fused into one. It really is a wonderful fusion of autobiography, history and fictional creation. It is well worth a look. The second book is Th

Right Ez, I just need you to give me the biggest smile you can… SNAP!

One never knows what sky will come. Campbell Street, Hobart. September 2010. I like a nice sky. To be honest, I like a nasty sky too. Any kind of sky really. Raining, sunny, you know, anything goes. Well, not a grey one. I’m not too much of a fan of a grey sky. I’ve not seen a green sky, but I’m sure it’s nice. I have seen orange skies, purple skies, red skies, pink skies. Blue skies of course. So yeah, any kind of sky really. Except grey.

Clifton Beach is one of my favourite Tasmanian beaches. Sure, it can get rough and tumble out there, but that’s the fun of the beach! The beach itself faces south-southeast into Storm Bay and is exposed to all southerly swell. Waves average around the 1.5-metre mark, but complicating matters is a continuous bar which is cut by rips every 200 metres during and following high waves. Even better, there are permanent rips against the rocks at each end. All of this means that many consider Clifton Beach as the most dangerous beach in Tasmania. Henry here is not so sure. He wagers that there are not enough Great Whites for that title.

36 what? Campbell Street, next to the Theatre Royal. October 2010. Thirty-six, or three b? Three be what? Thirty-six what? Three be whom? Thirty-six why? The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money , Charles Darwin hits Hobart, Method of Fluxions , Utrecht University, Catharine of Aragon dead. It never ends.

This is more like it! [For context, click here .]

Trunk of a gum at the High School. Geilston Bay, October 2010. On my way in to work this morning I spied the banner advertising the local rag – The Mockery Mercury – shouting: GET YOUR IQ TESTED Card in today’s MERCURY Alas, far be it from me to spoil your fun, but the local paper for local people is playing a cruel trick on you. Surely the results of the aforementioned IQ test is simple, if you purchase that renowned journal of language mutilation: FAIL !

You know that song about those two little boys? What’s it called again…? You know, two little boys with two little toys; muckin’ about, havin’ a lark. One of the toys got broke. You know the one! Then they went off and joined the army, killed some dudes, one of them got shot, slowly died in his mate’s arms. You know that song? This photograph is nothing like it.

Even dead trees have been reduced to begging. This one is doing well. Tahune Air Walk, September 2010. The little gold coins are two dollars , the slightly larger one’s one dollar . In the main, I can spot fifty and twenty cent pieces. There must be a few hundred dollars there, at least! I’d happily tolerate a few nicks and bruises if it meant that I was a few hundred off each day. Obviously, if you do spot me in the street and do wish to throw money at me, notes might be a better bet. Fifties or hundreds are especially welcome, but I shan’t turn my nose up at fives , tens or (heaven forbid) twenties . I’m very good like that.

So THAT explains how Jen smashed up the back of her car (to the extent that it was written off)! He can't even reach the controls properly!

Funny fungi on a log. Tahune Air Walk, September 2010. Sunday Top Five and I am struggling for motivation. Five Things That Might Possibly Help Spark Me Up : Peace and quiet. Well-behaved children. Death to all clowns. A dip in the ocean. A third World War.