And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in a masquerade.

Their own cross to bear. St Johns Park, New Town. April 2011. Sunday Top Five day and what possible top five could top The Top Five Churches That I Have Been Into And Find Firmly Stuck In My Mind? As a person of no faith [and believe me, at this point I have no faith in anything at all…] you know that a church must have something going for it to either have me going inside, let alone remember much about it.

Nürnberg Frauenkirche, Nürnberg. Seriously, how could you go past a church where the Holy Roman Emperors were crowned?

St. Vitus Cathedral, Praha. A spooky number located inside the castle, we were fortunate enough to see just towards the end of the restoration of the façade out front.

Notre Dame de Paris, Paris. Jean de Jandun nailed it in 1323: “that most terrible church of the most glorious Virgin Mary, mother of God, deservedly shines out, like the sun among stars..." You really do have to see it to believe it.

St Paul's Cathedral, Melbourne. A testament to the wealth of nineteenth century Melbourne, the yellow sandstone of St Paul’s marks it out against the dominant bluestone that is usually found throughout the city. Part of the Neo-Gothic revival, I never knew that it had the second highest Anglican spire in the world. Well, there you go!

Cattedrale di Santa Maria Assunta, Venezia. Normally people might be expected to plump for Basilica Cattedrale Patriarcale di San Marco (a.k.a. St Mark's Basilica). Now, San Marco is all well and good, but a little bit flash for my tastes. Far more memorable is the abandoned cathedral on the island of Torcello. Founded in 639, the façade of the Last Judgement is one of the scariest things I reckon I’ve seen. The fact that they abandoned the island after nearly everyone died of malaria may have something to do with that…

You can see the (former) church on the right of this picture. St Johns Park, New Town. April 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

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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