The first half of our lives are ruined by our parents and the second half by our children.

The complexity and range of Henry and Ezra's science experiments are increasing ten-fold. Here, you can see Henry taking a container of water highly enriched in the hydrogen isotope deuterium over to Ezra (out of shot), who has somehow managed to get his hands on some unenriched uranium (don't ask) and has a little scheme to reduce our electricity bills...

Comments

Roddy said…

Let us hope their experiments don't go awry otherwise not only will they reduce your electricity bills but also most of Tasmania.
The twenty second today,(I know Roddy can count). Henry's big day tomorrow.
You know the drill. Lots and lots of kisses and cuddles from Pa.
I hope that Nan has managed to spoil the big boy. Sorry that I can't make it.
We are in Mackay today. Sailing tomorrow pm for Brisbane.
Again. Lots of hugs and kisses for the birthday boy.
Don't forget Ezra though.

22 October 2011 at 19:25

Sue said…

When Henry has done reducing your electricity bills...can you send him over to do mine? Thanks!
Also...ditto what Roddy said. Kisses and hugs for Henry for his big day tomorrow (can't believe he is FIVE already!!!)Also a cuddle (or two...maybe three) for Ezra too. Oh and while I am here...some for you and Jen while you're at it!!! Love to you all.

22 October 2011 at 23:43

Roddy said…

Ease up Sue, you will spoil them!

23 October 2011 at 21:52

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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