Don't hit at all if it is honourably possible to avoid hitting; but never hit soft.

Sometimes the road less taken is less taken for a reason! Hastings Caves State Reserve, the Huon Valley. May 2012.

Sunday Top Five and even though the sun is out and the day is pleasant, I continue to struggle through with this flu. That said, I have managed to do three loads of washing, hang it out and make a litre of dark chocolate mousse, so life could be worse.

I hear that the Olympics are on. I hate the Olympics. Well, maybe that's unfair. I find them boring. Even that's a stretch. So today's Top ~~Five~~ Eight: My Memories Of Olympics Held During My Lifetime!

I can't recall a single thing about Beijing (Ezra was born around the time of the Opening Ceremony). Sorry China.

I know that it was in Athens the time before, but other than some odd shenanigans involving two Greeks on a motorbike, I didn't see anything else.

Sydney was rammed down out throats here in Australia, but for me the memorable aspect was the Roy and HG show, and that consisted of taking the piss.

Atlanta was in my first year of Uni, so I was too busy for it. I do recall that poor fat bloke that they said blew those people up (even though he didn't). People didn't seem to like it. Too much Coca Cola or some such.

Which leads to Barcelona, the only Olympics I recall spending any time watching. I had the video set up to to capture the things that I wanted to see. Alas, the former Soviet republics couldn't beat the Americans in the basketball so the whole things was a bit of a bummer. I did like that bit with the flaming arrow though.

Before that was Seoul, when I seemed to be at school during any events worth watching. I only really recall the 100 metres men's final and Michael Gross losing the 200-metre freestyle. I was relieved to see (most of) the Soviet bloc back, because I always barracked for them against the imperialist Yankee scourge. Yeah, I've always backed winners. Other than that, Spike Cheney seemed to have been dudded in the boxing, but really, "boxer dudded by the judges" could be from anywhere, anytime...

Los Angeles? No Soviets or East Germans left it as a cakewalk for the US, and they seemed to react in the manner that has made them so popular in the eyes of much of the world. It probably set the tone for my relationship with the concept of 'America' (as distinct from 'Americans'). There really is only so many times that you can take "U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.! before you get the urge to protest against the invasion of Granada. Sorry America, you didn't distinguish yourself here...

Which leaves... Moscow! Despite my tender years, I do vaguely recall four bald Australian men winning the 4×100 men's medley relay in the pool. Then again, that memory might be a reconstruction from repetition since!

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

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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