This will hurt me...

What lies beneath?

Go-to-sleep-forever-berries? Geilston Bay, April 2011. Today, a poll... Which is the greater achievement?

No. No snakes there...

This monolith thrusts confidently and proudly out up the heavens. St Johns Park, New Town. April 2011. Everywhere I look the phallus . Phalluses to the left of me, phalluses to the right, I am even seated right inside a phallus as I type! I look out over a vista dominated by (you guessed it) the phallus ! It doesn’t make a man half uncomfortable…

Little Howrah beach isn't a biggun', but it's a good 'un! Best crabbing beach close to Hobart.

House rules. The living room, Geilston Bay. March 2011. We do have more rules than this, but the chalk was fat and the blackboard is small so this is what Henry and I came up with when we work-shopped it. Do you have ‘house rules’? Are they displayed where the natives can see them?

Four million push-ups? No problem . Stay in bed all night? No chance.

The view from down low at the flower clock. Royal Hobart Botanical Gardens. March 2011. Think of this as a complex Where’s Wally challenge. For you American folks, I’m talking about Where’s Waldo . For some reason, the Yanks struggles with Wally and called him Waldo. If anyone xan explain, please feel free… #2 from the flower clock. Royal Hobart Botanical Gardens. March 2011. You might have better luck spying the hidden characters in this one…

On the farm, every Friday On the farm, it's Henry pie day. So, every Friday that ever comes along, I get up early and sing this little song Run Henry run Henry Run! Run! Run! Run Henry run Henry Run! Run! Run! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Goes the farmer's gun. Run Henry run Henry Run! Run! Run! Run Henry run Henry Run! Run! Run! Don't give the farmer his fun! Fun! Fun! He'll get by Without his Henry pie So run Henry run Henry Run! Run! Run!

Hobart in the Summer! Mount Wellington, as seen from New Town, February 2011. Quick , I need a Sunday Top Five! Ummmm…. How about Top Five Statistical Details About Tasmania That You Might Not Be Aware Of ? Most Tasmanians live in urban centres, with nearly 90% of the total population living in Hobart, Launceston, Burnie and Devonport. Over the next twenty years the proportion of Tasmanians under the age of fifteen is projected to decline by approximately 7% while the proportion of people aged 65 years and over could grow by almost 60%. In the ten years to 2006 there was a 10% decline in the number of households with children in Tasmania, while the number of childless couples increased by 17% and the number of people living alone increased by 15%. Although the proportion of welfare-dependent households has declined in recent years, Tasmania still has the highest proportion of welfare-dependent households of all states and territories at 34%. Of these households, the majority (52 %) wer...

Ezra keeps a keen eye on proceedings at the Royal Botanical Gardens, while Henry chases seagulls.

Hold on the the bright flowers while you can. Seven Mile Beach. March 2011. I have been awfully busy of late, so must apologise for my brevity. In fact, when this very post appears, I shall be otherwise occupied donating blood. And do you know what? YOU should donate blood too... To Be In Love , by Gwendolyn Brooks To be in love Is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well. You look at things Through his eyes. A cardinal is red. A sky is blue. Suddenly you know he knows too. He is not there but You know you are tasting together The winter, or a light spring weather. His hand to take your hand is overmuch. Too much to bear. You cannot look in his eyes Because your pulse must not say What must not be said. When he Shuts a door- Is not there_ Your arms are water. And you are free With a ghastly freedom. You are the beautiful half Of a golden hurt. You remember and covet his mouth To touch, to whisper on. Oh when to declare Is certain Death! Oh when to apprize Is ...

Here’s one from a few weeks back: Henry’s first day of Kindergarten . The wonderful Lindisfarne North Primary School didn’t know what hit it. It does now!

The morning sun of the office desk. No more shall be said. Curruthers Building, St Johns Park, New Town. March 2011. Another day, another too books! This week, the theme is depressing , albeit for quite different reasons. Book one is Caryl Phillips’ A Distant Shore . I’ve read a few of his books, and although he’s not the most refined of writers, one thing that Caryl Phillips can do is tell a story. This story is one of two people, both lonely and exist largely outside the mainstream of society. One is a retired teacher and the other an African refugee. Stylistically, the book's sections jump between the perspectives of the two main characters, and the story is relayed in a non-linear, broken fashion, so the reader is often caught on the back foot in terms of the narrative. This isn’t too frustrating, although the emerging fact that one of the central characters – who increasingly narrates in the first person – is unreliable, throws in a bit of a twist. Most novels of this kind w...