I'm all in favour of free expression provided it's kept rigidly under control.

Just how many tigers are too many tigers? Melbourne Zoo, April 2011.

I expect that three or four tigers probably constitutes too many tigers. Once you get beyond a couple, they start to bicker and argue, and the food they require to keep that healthy sheen and lustre to their coat becomes quite expensive. In fact, I’m just about ready to rule out those eight tigers I’ve been bidding for on E-Bay….

Sunday Top Five. Already?

I’ve got it! Today’s top five is Five Words That I Commit To Using In Everyday Conversation In The Course Of The Next Week (And That You Should Too)!

Anencephalous: “You see, the fundamental problem with that guy is that he is anencephalous. That’s the long and the short of it.

Bloviate: “Her tendency to bloviate in times of crisis makes her completely unsuitable for leadership.

Gobemouche: “His capacity to immediately identify and bring round every gobemouche in the room makes him a man worth knowing.”

Ornery: “Yeah, I know him. He’s a particularly ornery fellow. I shared an office with him for a while.”

Embrocation: “It’s okay. I’ve prepared an embrocation that I get her to rub in every morning before I leave, and every evening after I bathe. It’s good.

Now, I am more than happy to promise to slip these beauties in, but I offer the same challenge to all and sundry to see if you can check them off before this time next week. Get cracking and don’t eschew the dare!

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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