This will hurt me...

Jetson's fountain? Hobart's Railway Roundabout Fountain, Hobart. September 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... 1 in 4 Men Surveyed in Asia and the Pacific Have Raped. Is the midlife crisis a real thing? An excellent example of the stories that lay behind the image. The more we fixate on chemical weapons as “bad” warfare, the more we make conventional weapons seem like “good” warfare. Syria's 99 Percent: The Problem With Focusing on Chemical Weapons. Five years after the largest global financial crisis since the Great Depression, the world’s financial system remains dangerous and dysfunctional. On Eating Roadkill, the Most Ethical Meat. Is the Nation-State Dying? Some surprising factors that influence well-being arou...

Ez gets close and personal with the rather innovative water feature in Darlin Harbour, Sydney.

Henry channels the spirit of Jennifer Lopez...

Although the odds are decidedly against it, Ezra is already considering building his portfolio of portraits that might be used in forthcoming American Presidential election campaigns. From the outside, we’re aware that US campaigns require a few essentials (no, nothing silly like ‘policies’ or ‘consistent moral or ethical principles’). We need glossy photos, neat hair, a nice smile, and lots (LOTS) of money. So far, we have three of the necessary requirements, but we’re struggling on the fourth. The trick that we haven’t quite figured is, how can you possibly raise that much bread without compromising principles? No, I’m not sure it’s possible either…

A message from the fountain in Salamanca Square to you. June, 2010. T minus 9,090 minutes and 18 seconds. Heavy fog on Hobart's eastern shore this morning, you couldn't even see the Tasman bridge until you were on it, and when you were on it, you couldn't see the Derwent River Estuary. Funny thing was though, no fog on the western shore. Grey old day mind you, but no fog. Looking out over the river though, no eastern shore! What witchcraft is this!?!

The fountain in Salamanca Square up close and personal. May 2010. Crikey Moses it is cold this morning. The very heavy frost that is lurking about has mean that my fingers are struggling to hang out the four loads of washing done thus far. Yes, it is a cruel world. Today's Sunday Top Five: Five Places In The World I'd Rather Be This Morning... Blackpool Vladivostok Montego Bay Rostock Pago Pago

Water jets in Franklin Square, Winter '09 . Theme Thursday today, and what a task I have! The theme is RHYTHM, so I set myself the goal this morning of penning a lightning fast drabble on today’s them on my way to work on the bus this morning. Alas, my trusty notebook was elsewhere! Thus, I fished out a receipt from the fresh fruit market in Salamanca [APPLES GRANNY SMITH SML KG], and set about squeezing out 100 words on the back. I’m glad to say that I had the requisite number done and dusted by the time I hit the bridge and was able to dip back in to Dame Rebecca West’s interesting little tale The Return of the Soldier . Let’s take the easy way out and call this one RHYTHM . The rhythm of their relationship was a familiar one. He worshipped her, she loathed him. He adored her, she was disgusted . He would whisper the sweetest, gentlest paeans of his affection into her lovely ear as they made love, and she would shun his offerings a cat might a command. When he arrived home, h...

Pebbles. Water. Sunlight. I think that's all you need to have something halfway interesting. I took this one down in Salamanca, it's part of the statue/fountain combination dedicated to Abel Tasman and the Mighty Dutch Empire plucky little Koninkrijk der Nederlanden . Time for Sunday Top Five! Five Things Better Than The English Cricket Team Henry's toilet nous: we had another poo this morning. Ezra's standing abilities: not much falling over these days. Studly North West Coast swing bowlers: Hilfenhaus is the pick of the bowlers. How the poms wish that they could call up some Tasmanians! (Given that the past two English captains are South African, you wonder why they don't.) West Indian Scab Cricketers: the motley crew of strikebreakers are trouncing Bangladesh, and would no doubt wallop the pride of England (and Wales). Turnips: turnips are better than the English cricket team. Trust me.

Here is bit an experiment with shutter speed, a zoom and a fast-running fountain. I think that in order to get the shot that I really envisaged, I need more light and a slower fountain. I used to write a lot of things down in these books that I had. I wouldn't call the journals as such, but I'd write things in there and draw stupid little pictures and occasionally paste in newspaper articles or cartoons or comics or pictures that drew my attention for some reason or other. Often I'd record overheard conversations or (often poorly) remembered snatches of conversation. I thought that in the spirit of experimentation, I'd dig something up. I did date it, and it was overhead in the winter of 1996, during a night on the tiles. You'd never guess: and it's the past - it's over - remember when - remember when? - remember that? - of course - i do - space and time - i do - worth it's weight - definitely - and it's there - there it is - but i can't tell yo...

Here one can see the Dutch ships Heemskerck and Zeehaen battling through the notorious Southern Ocean. Of course, this is but a re-creation, as no photograhs survive of Abel Tasman's little holiday down south in 1642. I think that they got wet and mouldy. Or something. I occasionally wonder what might have happened if the Dutch got serious about settling Tasmania and crowded the Poms out. Given their tendency to set up plantations for cash crops in Indonesia, maybe they were too lazy to get their hands dirty and make a go of it in a sparsely inhabited land like ours. Perhaps it's a good thing though, as clogs give me blisters and I’m not the biggest fan of herring. That said though, tulips are lovely and grow rather nicely down here, we get plenty of wind for windmill-related hi-jinks. So maybe we missed out. Maybe the Dutch could have sent out some tall blonde women instead of all those filthy convicts and we could be cruising on bicycles through an immaculate red light ...

So I will end this crop of Sydney photos with some water. I quite like walking past this series of fountains and water features. It smells of chlorine, which makes me think of public pools, which makes me think of girls frolicking in swimwear, which I find relaxing. I need that right now. I've had poor old Henry hanging off me for two straight days, as he is feeling poorly. It really has to be seen to be believed. The lad is clearly struggling, but he does appear to be embracing his illness with some gusto. It's even generated a new nickname, Dame Judy Dench , as that's who his melodramatic approach to expressing his unease this weekend reminds me of.

I'm not happy with these colours, but Henry insisted that we give a Henry-eyed view of the fountain in Salamanca Square. I get the impression that it is in some way a magical fountain, because it always seems to draw children (and drunks) to climb in for a swim. After seeing dozens of mangy pigeon bathing in there however, I would advise against it.