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Showing posts with the label local history

There is naught so vile as a fickle tongue.

Ruins #1. Coal Mines Historic Site, Saltwater River. Tasman Peninsula. August 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... Science Confirms: Politics Wrecks Your Ability to Do Maths. On why Minecraft is more than just another video game. How apt. HERE COMES A VICTORY OF SHIT. Secret disguises of the Stasi. Genius and talent: The distinction has become blurred. But talent is commonplace; genius is inexplicable, innate, and exceedingly rare… The Masters of Nature Photography book – in pictures. The Women of the Afghanistan War. In perspective: the demands of work and fatherhood. Ruins #2. Coal Mines Historic Site, Saltwater River. Tasman Peninsula. August 2013.

Before you try to keep up with the Joneses, be sure they're not trying to keep up with you.

Window to the World. Coal Mines Historic Site, Saltwater River. Tasman Peninsula. August 2013. Wordless Wednesday. broken. Coal Mines Historic Site, Saltwater River. Tasman Peninsula. August 2013.

It goes without saying that you should never have more children than you have car windows.

One of the princes in the tower?

I loved her, but I told her I did no

The water is off. Nutgrove Beach, Sandy Bay. December 2012. I do believe that I am entering my prime ... Exile , Donald Hall A boy who played and talked and read with me Fell from a maple tree. I loved her, but I told her I did not, And wept, and then forgot. I walked the streets where I was born and grew, And all the streets were new.

But learn that to die is a debt we must all pay.

In the footsteps of Charles Darwin. Waverley Wildflower Walk, Bellerive. December 2012. Let's call this Sunday Top Five Five Things That Just Might Surprise You On This, The Ninety-Third Anniversary Of Poland's Wedding to the Sea ! The probability that, in a set of randomly chosen people, of finding a pair who the same birthday will reach 100% certainty when the number of people reaches 367. Moreover, 99% probability is reached with just 57 people, and 50% probability with 23 people . Researchers from the University of Queensland found that for every hour you watch TV you may shorten your life by as much 22 minutes . Furthermore, it suggested that watching TV could increase your risk of developing Alzheimer’s disease. Bill Clinton only sent two e-ails as President of the USA . Nikita Khrushchev "we will bury you" speech that escalated the Cold War was probably a mistranslation. It received as threat to bury the U.S. with a nuclear attack. However, the ...

Those are my principles, and if you don't like them... well, I have others.

Bridge over troubled reasonably placid water. Richmond. February 2012. This Watery Wednesday to the almost-still Coal River in Richmond (a far cry from the raging torrent that we visited back in June last year ). Yet is not so much the water as the bridge itself that has got me thinking... It says something about a country when your oldest bridge still in use - the heritage listed Richmond Bridge - only dates back to 1825. As you can see on the bridge itself, the foundation stone was laid in 1823 and the thing itself was constructed using convict labour (the sandstone was quarried nearby and hauled to the site using hand carts) until it eventual completion one hundred and eighty-seven years ago. All this is a far cry from some of those other bridges that you might have visited, like the Kapellbrücke (1333), the Charles Bridge (1357), Si-o-se Pol (1602), or the good-as-new Alcántara Bridge (106) [!!!] All of a sudden, 1823 doesn't quite seem that far away.

Many contemporary authors drink more than they write.

Exra studies Tasmanian history. Stanley, Tasmania's North West. February 2012. Saša Stanišić’s debut novel, How the Soldier Repairs the Gramophone offers a moving portrait of the breakup of Yugoslavia (and the Bosnian conflict more specifically), as seen through the eyes of a child. The novel explores the barriers of race and religion and the absurd constructs that they are, and – perhaps unsurprisingly – it fails to offer up any real explanation as to how neighbours who previously laughed, drank and sang together suddenly started raping, torturing and killing each other. The central chronicler is Aleks, of mixed Serbian and Bosniak heritage, as he struggles to comprehend the rapid descent into war and chaos of the once blissful Yugoslav town of Višegrad. This is an emotionally gruelling read. If you had any kind of awareness of what was happened in the former Yugoslavia, you’ll recognise the sense of dread from a reader’s perspective. Ultimately, it highlights the irrational and ...

Those who do not move, do not notice their chains.

A shed. Iveresk Railyards, Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery. Launceston. February 2012. There's nothin' short of dyin', half as lonesome as the sound, on the sleepin' city sidewalks: Sunday mornin' comin' down. Comin' down from all day stuck in the garden landscaping the bugger, that is. 38 degrees Celsius. I've obviously offended someone in a past life... Which leads me to today's Sunday Top Five: My Top Five People Named Henry! Henry [Fitzgerald] McCracken . You might know this bloke... Henry [Joy] McCracken . Not to be confused with that [above] bloke... Henry David Thoreau . Civil disobedience bloke... Henry Every . King of Pirates bloke... Henry Miller . Pervert bloke in Paris...

When everything is easy one quickly gets stupid.

The dead centre of town. Cornelian Bay Cemetary, Cornelian Bay (as seen from Derwent Avenue). February 2012. Theme Thursday today and more and more pointless meetings mean that I am now seeing DOUBLE. Why DOUBLE? Well, I can't be sure, but I suspect that has something to do with the brick walls that I have been head-butting...

A word to the wise ain't necessary - it's the stupid ones that need the advice.

[Whispers] Henry can see dead people.

Journalists are like dogs, when ever anything moves they begin to bark.

An old furnace. St Johns Park, New Town. June 2011. Here are SIX things I have reconsidered my opinion upon of late: U2's Zooropa . Keeping one's mouth shut. Guinea Pigs. Slash and burn (in relation to the public sector). Traveling with children. Wales.

I have always looked upon decay as being just as wonderful and rich an expression of life as growth.

History can be found anywhere. Elizabeth Street, Hobart. September 2010. Here you can see a ye olde time billboard (e?), advertising a long-since departed service station in Elizabeth Street, right smack bang in the middle of town. These days, you will struggle to find a service station anywhere that close to the CBD, they’ve all been bought up and converted into alcohol outlets (I kid you not). One day, I wonder what people will make of what we have done to our city.

A man's dying is more his survivor's affair than his own.

Matthew Forster knew where the bodies were buried. St Johns Park, New Town. July 2010. Theme Thursday , and I am dwelling on death and memory. Matthew Forster got this obelisk for his hard work, I'd rather a nice ARECACEAE...

Civilization is a movement and not a condition, a voyage and not a harbour.

Geilston Bay power poles. June 2010. A short while ago someone asked in the comments to see more of Geilston Bay, here's a start! Here's the view looking south towards the next suburb of Lindisfarne. Geilston Bay itself is a small suburb of Hobart. Technically, it is located in the City of Clarence located on the Eastern Shore of the Derwent River Estuary. It is a suburb abundant with nature, with many houses built right next to the bushland (hence the impressive amount of dead native animals to be found squished on the highway). In terms of 'attractions', well, there is the bay itself, with a Boat Club located a couple of hundred metres from our house. There's the Shag Bay Aboriginal Site , but we're really just talking about piles of discarded mussel shells. I'll be honest and confess an anthropological bias: once you've seen Notre Dame Cathedra l, a midden that dates a few hundred years more recent seems a bit humdrum. There is also a local high s...