This will hurt me...

The ballot for the next family holiday. November 2019. As a young lad – in the years before smart phones, the Internet and more than two television channels – I would spend hours pawing over atlases, encyclopaedias and novels from all over the globe. Sure, I might have been stuck in a dying, deindustrialising town (downgraded from a city, such was our fortune) on the north west of an island that served as the butt all the jokes of the rest of the state (which itself served as the punchline of the jokes of the rest of the country), at the arse end of the World; but that very same World was at my fingertips, with a little bit of help from a library card. While I may have lamented never getting the chance of crossing those seas and seeing much of that World myself, I tried to keep my mind and imagination open. Therefore, now we are of means, and my kids are old enough to survive a bit of discomfort, I am keen to help them see as much of the planet while I have some kind of infl...

Hinsby Beach, looking to the south-east. Taroona, May 2010. If I could, I would locate any workspace I would be required to be at each day right on a beach. I am not too fussed which beach, just some beach somewhere, preferably protected from the elements by a well-placed bluff. That and a view off into a vast expanse of ocean with all the glories that sea and sky can conjure up through the day. A small, but well ventilated, glass box set upon a windswept coastline would be a vast improvement on a cubicle, strip fluorescent lighting and the now closed venation blinds that constitutes my vista these days. That’s my dream. What’s yours?

Upon watching this catamaran sail out to sea, Henry commented that one day he'd own one. Only his would be eight times as large and have its own pool and roller disco!

That Munnalita would have to be the most loathesome individual on TV right now. I take that as a given. The Biggest Loser thing is getting so bad, that I had a dream about it last night. I went something like this: Shannan and Michelle briskly jog up to the front door of the white house. Cut to one on one with Michelle: "I don't know what it was that I was feeling, but something wasn't right." Shot of Shannon opening the door. Cut to Shannon: "OH NO! We open the door, and would you believe it!" Shot of Marty's limp body hanging from the top rail of the staircase. Cut back to Shannon: "There's Marty, hanging from the staircase. [Excitedly] He's only gone and hanged himself!" Shot of Marty's eyeballs bulging out. He’s clearly been dead a while. Cut to Michelle: "There's Marty hanging there, and I could tell he was dead straight away, and man was I PISSED!" Shot of Shannon and Michelle bewildered standing next to Marty...