Modesty is a vastly overrated virtue.

We managed to ‘discover’ a new beach the other day. As it is somewhat off the beaten track (well, down a dirt road really), there is very little sign that anyone else uses it much. This makes Calverts Beach the perfect place to continue our Patented Pirate Preparation Programme (PPPP)!

Here we can perfect the fine art of charging at the enemy shouting curses and promises to eat their eyeballs and use their skull for a breakfast bowl [See above]…

Practice our scaling of potentially deadly cliff faces to sack entire towns, ~~raping~~ making inappropriate remarks and pillaging along the way…

Try-out prospective hasty retreats in case we’re overestimated our capacities and face routing/walking the plank/being hung drawn and quartered…

Yo ho ho and a bellyful of ~~rum~~ pink milk etc etc

Comments

Roddy said…

What a great shot of the "Beach Boys". I hope that name isn't copyrighted.
If nothing else the intrepid explorers should get nice and fit running up and over the sand dunes.
Next they will have to practice digging for buried treasure. Or perhaps practice burying it it.

15 January 2011 at 20:37

Carola said…

This realy does look like the perfect place.

Great shots with your pirate gang.

Do you never thought, it could cause a problem,if you name your treasue beach?

Ah, and the photo from Jen on the beach is wonderful. She must love this. It is nice when Jen comes in the picture.

16 January 2011 at 00:48

Kris McCracken said…

Roddy, no rubbish their either.

Carola, we tried another new beach yesterday. Not my favourite.

16 January 2011 at 13:45

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

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...

This will hurt me...

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