Skip to main content

I have the fault of being a little more sincere than is proper.


Hobart in the Winter. 10 Murray as seen from the Waterfront. August 2013.

Theme Thursday?

CHILLS?

A hyperborean hope?

Getting a gelid groove?

It's Hobart in Winter.

What do you think?
Labels:

Comments

smudgeon said…
Are they still determined to knock down #10? Shame.
10 August 2013 at 09:40
Kris McCracken said…
They're clearing the area right now. Demolition work is set to start soon.
11 August 2013 at 15:25
smudgeon said…
It'd be a fraction of the cost to retro-fit, give her a lick of paint, and put a new plaque out front.

And yet...
12 August 2013 at 20:30
Mrsupole said…
It really is a shame for them to be so destructive and wasteful. What are they going to build in it's place, if anything at all? I see where they take a lot of those old buildings and turn them into Condos which are worth a ton of money. And they are usually in high demand too if they are in the right location. But when I look at this picture I just want to climb in and feel some of that cold weather. It is fire season up here and with all these fires it seems as if every night all we smell is smoke when we open the windows. But sadly we are stuck because running our A/C costs so much money.

Thanks for sharing this picture and happy TT. Hope you warm up just a bit down there. Have a great week.

God bless.
12 August 2013 at 21:46
Kris McCracken said…
Smudgeon, maybe I could chain myself to it?

Mrsupole, the new site will allegedly look like this.
22 August 2013 at 21:32
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.
3 comments
Read more

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
5 comments
Read more

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut
10 comments
Read more