A good traveller has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.

Dish on South Arm. Seen from Sandy Bay [with zoom]. August 2011.

SETI alive and well in Tasmania? Perhaps...

Today's Sunday Top Five is a straightforward one: My Top Five English Monarch Throughout History That I would Like To Invite Around To Tea!

Edmund the Magnificent

Æthelred the Unready

William the Bastard, a.k.a. William the Conqueror

Richard III

Charles I

Just to throw the cat amongst the pigeons, I'd also invite Lords Protector Oliver Cromwell along, spike his drink, and watch the feathers fly!

Comments

Roddy said…

Do you think I could have my breakfast out of that dish?
SETI, Yeti, Betty. Is this some polit speak?
We are picking up a pilot at 1500 (3pm), this arfternoon and going to anchor in Moreton Bay until 1700 (5pm) tomorrow, when we go to our berth to load.
Petroleum products to North and far North Queensland. Petrol, Diesel, Jet fuel.
Our carbon footprint is huge!

7 August 2011 at 12:43

Carola said…

Kris, I think you did know that I will comment on that quote. It is so true. But it is better without "good".
We try to do it this way. That's the reason why we are so slow and need so much time to get home;)

8 August 2011 at 08:48

Kris McCracken said…

Roddy, SETI = Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence.

Carola, travel is about the journey, not the destination. Of that, you already know much!

13 August 2011 at 09:28

Roddy said…

Why don't we concentrate on finding intelligent life on earth first?

13 August 2011 at 10:23

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...

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. ...

This will hurt me...

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