This will hurt me...

We managed to make it out of the bush without eating the weakest. This time...

Hot steppin' hootenanny!

Ezra and Henry present a history of the Mount Nelson Signal Station through the medium of modern interpretive dance...

On the farm, every Friday On the farm, it's Henry pie day. So, every Friday that ever comes along, I get up early and sing this little song Run Henry run Henry Run! Run! Run! Run Henry run Henry Run! Run! Run! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Goes the farmer's gun. Run Henry run Henry Run! Run! Run! Run Henry run Henry Run! Run! Run! Don't give the farmer his fun! Fun! Fun! He'll get by Without his Henry pie So run Henry run Henry Run! Run! Run!

Why is there a lion on the Tasmanian flag? Mount Nelson Signal Station, Mount Nelson. March 2011. Mount Nelson is a suburb of the city of Hobart, Tasmania, Australia. Its name would suggest that it is located upon a mountain, but you’ve not reckoned with the cunning logic of Tasmanians. Now, there is no universally accepted definition of a mountain. The Oxford English Dictionary defines a mountain as a natural elevation of the earth surface rising more or less abruptly from the surrounding level and attaining an altitude which, relatively to the adjacent elevation, is impressive or notable. Strictly speaking , Mount Nelson is not much of a mountain. Given that Mount Wellington towers over it right next door, I’m not sure it’s visage is either impressive or notable. Indeed, its highest peak is a measly 350 metres above sea level. The view of South Arm Peninsula and beyond. Mount Nelson Signal Station, Mount Nelson. March 2011. Mount Nelson was originally named Nelson's Hill – a far...

There are snakes all around us.

Climbing hills is good exercise. Carrying two tired children while climbing hells is torture.

Yesterday I showed Jen and Ez standing in the Signals House on Mount Nelson. Here is the singnals house itself. Early on in the history of Van Diemen's Land, they didn't have mobile phones, Internets or [gasp] even fax machines. So they made do with flags. Here upon this great big hill, they had a ruddy great pole with flags of all colours to send messages all the way down to Port Arthur, where the horrible and smelly convicts were kept. I'm not sure as to its veracity, but Henry tells me that this signal here is, "Darling, we're out of bread. Oh, and a carton of milk too while you're at it..." More views of the city and the river to come shortly.