One of the lessons of history is that nothing is often a good thing to do and always a clever thing to say.

I’m on a submarine mission for you baby… Bellerive, February 2011.

Telecom Australia was formerly the trading name of Telstra Corporation Limited, an Australian telecommunications and media company, formerly owned by the Australian government and privatised in stages from the late 1990s. To give you an idea of the age of this sign, Telecom became Telstra in 1995.

It is in surprisingly good shape given that it is (at least) sixteen years old. I suspect that this is explained (at least in part) by the fact that it doesn’t have Telstra emblazoned on it. Let’s just say that since privatisation, Telstra has not exactly endeared itself to its former owners, the Australian public…

Which leads me into today’s Sunday Top Five…

Today I noticed – when uploading some new photographs – that my Blogger account is now upwards of 98% capacity of my 1 GB of free storage. Now you may have noticed, but this blog has essentially evolved into a photographic record of Tasmania and two certain characters, with some increasingly awkward commentary. Just a few more photos and I’ll be OVER THE LIMIT.

Thus, I am faced with Five Choices In Relation To This Here Blog (Or Web Log, As Blogs Are Commonly Referred Too)!

Chance my hand in the currency market and purchase more online storage space and continue on as usual.

Quit.

Start afresh somewhere else in some other format.

Sell the licence to http://thiswillhurtme.blogspot.com/ to Rupert Murdoch for US 580 million dollars.

Hand over the reins to Henry and Ezra and see what happens.

Honestly, my preference in dot point four (4), but as yet Mr Murdoch has remained silent regarding any potential purchase. For that reason I turn to you, dear readers. What do you think I should do?

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

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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