See how many are better off than you are, but consider how many are worse.

So you go through here... Fossil Cove. February 2013.

To celebrate today's Sunday Top Five I thought that I'd offer up My Top Five Sentences Found At The Beginning Of The Third Paragraph Of Page 73 In Books That I Can Reach From My Bed!

"On 7 March, Hitler signed the directive."

"Use an immersion blender to purée the soup in the pot, but only partially; leave some of the mushroom chunks intact."

"The boy squatted in the mouth of the cave watching the sun disappear behind the mountains and deep shadows gliding across the valley floor."

"That's a horse," I protested; "not a locomotive."

"His caresses were so delicate that they were almost like a teasing, an evanescent challenge which she feared to respond to as it might vanish."

I shall leave it to you, dear reader, to figure out which selection belongs to one of A Spy In The House Of Love, The Second World War, Bring The Jubilee, I Am The Clay or From A Polish Country House Kitchen...

...and you end up here. Fossil Cove. February 2013.

Comments

Roddy said…

I thought for a moment that you may have let the kids loose with a spade or two. Not a bad hole.

17 March 2013 at 18:56

Kris McCracken said…

They ate their way through.

21 March 2013 at 19:55

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...

Search This Blog