This will hurt me...

I hope that the dimples never fade away...

It's all about your perspective. Marieville Esplanade looking up Napoleon Street, the Sandy Bay/Battery Point border. July 2011.

I always think that if you find yourself out and about armed with a camera and don't come home with dirty knees, you haven't done all that you can do in pursuit of a halfway decent photograph. Granted, the older I get the more difficult it is to get back up without straining some muscle somewhere or dislocating a kneecap, but are we not supposed to suffer for our art?

Now I'm not talking about nailing one's old fellow to a two by four or self flagellation atop a canvas. I just mean get down in the dirt and check out those parallel lines. Tired of another photo of the clouds? Try it lying flat on your back. You might be surprised at what you see if you mix you angles up a bit.

Henry relaxed as we head due South towards the Tasman Bridge in the water taxi.

[For those inclined, that is long-time comments stalker Roddy's arm in shot...]

Lord won't you save me because I sure have sinned... St George's Anglican Battery Point, as seen from King Street Sandy Bay. July 2011.

When I first moved down to Hobart I used to live directly opposite this church. It was lit up with spotlights all through the night and would ring its bells religiously every Sunday morning. ALL morning.

Christ it was annoying.

Ezra and some of his favourites from his rock collection....

The closest we'll come to having a dog... The living room, Geilston Bay. June 2011.

A pretty pound puppy living in a Duplo duplex being fed bricks with a plastic pitchfork? Very much the only dog I will be letting in our house! Even that one was a loaner from Henry's kindergarten...

I'm more a cat man than a dog person. Dogs are always whining and begging. I've already got enough of that around the joint thank you very much.

One of the bonuses of the new place of work is that this park is a mere two minutes away (on foot)!

As you can see, Henry now feels as if he owns the place.

Self portrait during a lunch break. Russell Street, Sandy Bay. July 2011.

I do a reasonable line in obscure self portraits. If it is not shadow, it is a reflection. If it is not a reflection, it is a foot. Sometimes it is feet AND a reflection!

A foot viewed from different angles is essentially a different foot. Sometimes it just IS a different foot.

Of course, no one shadow is the same as another. Shadows come in all shapes and sizes.

Just as a reflection and a reflection can be very different beasts.

Sometimes you just happen to be in the right place at the right time.

Self-portraits can be deliberate, incidental or just plain unique.

I'll give the two little blokes their due, when we were in Melbourne I reckon that they walked over 25 kilometres each!

Ezra walks tall. Cremorne Beach, Cremorne. June 2011.

Like sands through the hourglass, these are the days of our Sunday Top Five. Honestly, days are seemingly shorter, time increasingly constricted and I find myself hurtling towards oblivion at a rate of increasing knots. Alas, one cannot avoid one’s self-imposed commitments so let me turn yet again to an inimitable and meaningful top five...

In a revolutionary reflexive result, I’m giving you My All Time Top Five Top Fives (Up To This Point)!

5. Five Reasons That It Might Take You Five Minutes To Walk From The Corner Of Davey Street To The GPO in Hobart!
   
   
4. McCracken's Tasmanian Tigers All-Time Squad!
   
   
3. My Top Five Reasons Why Melbourne Is Better Than Sydney!
   
   
2. Top Five Things That Australia Leads the World In (beginning with the letter ‘S’’!
   
   
1. My Top Five Ever Karaoke Performances!
   

Ez, Jen and Hen hunt for crabs. Cremorne Beach, Cremorne. June 2011.

Lost in the bush with a scarcity of food, Henry finally tried his broccoli eight days in...

Jennifer's legs. Clifton Beach, June 2011.

I really really REALLY love this poem. It captures pretty much perfectly my feelings. I'd like to think that in the heart of all men in love lurks a Viking berserker...

Your Hair of Snakes and Flowers, Håkan Sandell Hakan Sandell

When I saw one of those men touch your hair,
I heard for the first time in many a year
the ancient battle trumpets and I saw
the banners of an army winding off to war
and felt that blind power urging me to knock
him out with one punch, send him tumbling to the floor.
If nobody had held me back, stopped me,
I would—God help me—have killed him on the spot,
stomped out his blood, and spit in it. I'm sorry,
but you must be aware your winding hair
is different now, a hornets' nest, a snakes' lair!
Yes, like a ball of snakes in a flower basket, dear.

We spotted her off the bow about two mile so’ so’west.

The great white whale: Moby Dick tossell.

Gulls as flags. Sandy Bay Rowing Club, Marieville Esplanade Sandy Bay. June 2011.

For some reason unbeknownst to me the two excellent, substantive and thorough book reviews I’d drafted this week have disappeared!

Thus you are stuck with the truncated versions.

Sofia Petrovna by Lydia Chukovskaya: a fascinating rendering of the effect of Stalin’s Great Purge on one woman, written at the time by an author who similarly suffered. A decent read and a fascinating historical document. Well worth your time.

The Pearl by John Steinbeck: based on a Mexican folk tale, an interesting story of the risks of bucking established patterns and roles in life. This colourful reconstruction on life as an indigenous Mexican pearl diver won’t challenge you too much, but it is worth a read.