A committee is a group of the unprepared, appointed by the unwilling to do the unnecessary.

Someone must have had some time on their hands. Opossum Bay Beach. January 2011.

Christ almighty, we’re ankle deep into February already. In barely eighteen [18!!!] more days, my oldest – and loudest – beautiful boy will begin his journey through the Tasmanian educational system. Yes, the time for Kindergarten has arrived!

While I am certain that Henry will enjoy, and indeed flourish in the new environment, I do fear for the welfare of his teacher. He’s a bright boy, but headstrong. Firm of opinion (and even firmer of resolve), I suspect that he will attempt a classroom putsch!

Be warned.

Whatever happens, he’ll be sure to have an easier time of it than I did, Why, my school was so rough we had our own coroner!

Which leads me to today’s Sunday Top Five; [In Chronological Order] My Top Five Educational Institutions That I Have Attended!

Upper Burnie Primary School

Parklands High School

Hellyer College

The University Of Tasmania

The School of Hard Knocks

When I look at that list of schools, it seems remarkably thin. If you’ve made it this far how many did you attend? Who holds the record?

Shacks morphing into houses. Opossum Bay Beach. January 2011.

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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