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
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Perhaps you need some rolly rolly thingamajigs for your feet. You at least have the vibration doover down pat.
Countdown to the big boys birthday. I certainly wish I was going to be there. At least your mum will make it.
PFFFT!
It's still a bit early however if I can't get a birthday message out on the day wish the big boy all of my love. And embarrass him just like I would if I were there.
Twentieth in Gladstone, twenty-second in Mackay and then two days back to Brisbane. Only fourteen and a half thousand tonne in each port. Should be in and out in the one day.
Off to Hobart on the twenty-fourth. Five days steaming though. Arrive on the twenty-ninth.
Will make contact as we get closer.