This will hurt me...

Is there such a thing as natural modesty?

...and ye shall find. The junction of Sandy Bay Road and St Georges Terrace, Battery Point. March 2013. I think that onions make more sense from Valentine's Day gifts than chocolates. We should all try to embrace the genus Allium . Valentine , Carol Ann Duffy Not a red rose or a satin heart. I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. I am trying to be truthful. Not a cute card or a kissogram. I give you an onion. Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips, possessive and faithful as we are, for as long as we are. Take it. Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring, if you like. Lethal. Its scent will cling to your fingers, cling to your knife.

In fact, there are many ways that you go about doing it. But first, we really need to define 'it'.

The darling buds of March. Princes Street, Sandy Bay. March 2013. The Sirens of Titan , Kurt Vonnegut: I like Vonnegut very much, but must admit that I found this one a bit of a chore. It has an impressively woven sprawl, but I dunno, seemed a little to contrived for my tastes. C- . I Am The Clay , Chaim Potok: An American Rabbi explores the Korean War through the eyes of an old couple and a young orphan. You wouldn't think that it would work, but I thought that it was first rate. I thought that you'd struggle to find a bleaker work than The Road , but this hits you harder because the journey is so depressingly plausible. Not for the faint-hearted. A- . Mrs. Hollingsworth's Men , Padgett Powell: Okay, I hated this book. Really hated it. Call it surreal. Call it post-modern. Call it meta. Whatever. I call it self-indulgent rubbish. F .

I'd happily walk the plank for you.

Hmmmmm. Bellerive Bluff, Bellerive. March 2013. Theme Thursday already and there is a nasty little FRAGRANCE about. A stench. A stink. An odour of disrepute. No putrefaction, but something ominous. A bouquet of disagreeableness. A whiff of repugnance and an aura of unpleasantness. And I'm not talking about the fish.

Cherry?

Game, set and match. Geilston Bay Tennis Club, Geilston Bay. March 2013. Wordless Wednesday.

You know that part where Tom Cruise is in his undies and dances around to Bob Seger? This is nothing at all like that.

Too hot for standing in the sun. GrandvEwe Cheese, Birches Bay. January 2013. Sunday Stealing: The (20) First (Questions) Meme First Job: Being born is always a challenging task. First Real Job: I consider the paper rounds that I slogged through the long hot Tasmanian summers to very much be a 'real job'. First Volunteer Job: Can you count that time I was a Primary School House Leader? I did give up a lot of recesses... First Car: I still haven't got one! First Record: The first that I'm told that I insisted upon getting was Bright Eyes by Art Garfunkel. First Sport Played: If you discount running about more generally or splashing in the water, it was most likely aussie rules football. First Concert: I am told that I attended a John Mayall concert as a little 'un. First Country Visited: Besides Australia? Thailand (for about 90 minutes). Beyond that, the UK. First Kiss: The little girl across the road. First Speech: I've never

Clowning around.

The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs. GrandvEwe Cheeses, Birches Bay. January 2013. As you know, the Internet is a wonderful place filled with the rich and varied treasures of the world holds (and RSS feeds.) The following are some things that I've had a look at in the last week. I call this: a Compendium of Click-throughs for Monday Morning... Why not start my Flickr Photostream ?

... [Groping for metaphor.] ...

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 Cla