This will hurt me...

Walking into town. Montpellier Retreat, Battery Point. December 2012. Politics, eh? The distribution of scare resources? Picking sides? Artform? Science? Maybe poetry holds the answer. Politics , WB Yeats How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics? Yet here's a travelled man that knows What he talks about, And there's a politician That has read and thought, And maybe what they say is true Of war and war's alarms, But O that I were young again And held her in my arms!

A bacon and egg roll and we’ll just wait and see what happens. Campbell Street, Hobart. January 2011. History – and historical memory – can be an odd business. It is hard to get a sense when you are in the present of the true historical magnitude of the events taking place around you. Conversely, it’s nigh on impossible to comprehend truly the importance of events that happened with the distance of time between you and it/them, removed as you are from the proper context. That does not stop us from trying of course. You may have seen the (most recent) attempt to tally up the views (and scores) of British historians along a set of criteria and deduce the “best” President of the United States . It is an interesting exercise, and makes for some great arguments (you can read all about it here), but ultimately it strikes me as being a bit of a futile exercise. While I will confess to be an FDR fan, I really couldn’t tell you if he was really X percent superior to (say) Grover Cleveland; or ...

People heading home. Collins Street as seen from Campbell Street, Hobart. September 2010. In a rush so here's 20 questions! Were you born early, late or right on time? You would have to ask my mother about that. Chicken pox? Twice! Aged five and again aged 14. Good times… Allergic to bees? No. I have been stung and while it hurt, it went away reasonable quickly. How about strawberries? No. I can eat ‘em all day. Hereditary illness? Not yet, although there are a few predispositions there. Have you ever been in a car accident? Nothing important. We went through a fence once. That was funny. How much do you smoke? Smoking is for losers. How much do you drink? The odd cider now and then. Is your cholesterol normal? Who knows?!? One hopes… Have you ever run a marathon? Christ no. No good for the knees. And feet. And legs. And back. And heart. How many x-ray's have you had (not including dentist)? A few. Couldn’t tell you. Do you watch what you eat? I try and practice balance, but I ...

Walking to work, Monday morning, what could be finer? Oh, I know ! NOT walking to work on a Monday morning. Staying home in bed. With children who are quiet and well behaved and let you lie in. Walking to work, Monday morning.

I found myself stuck on a traffic island, drivers to the left of me, cyclists to the right, when all of a sudden a bus comes hurtling straight at me and all I had to protect myself was this flimsy sign! Today's instalment of Saturday Festival of *someone else's* Poetry features an oldie, but a goodie. Love and Hate , by Ogden Nash Love is a word That is constantly heard Hate is a word that is not Love, I am told Is more precious than gold Love, I have heard Is hot But hate is the verb That to me is superb And love, just a drug On the mart For any kiddie from school Can love like a fool But hating, my boy Is an art

I will wager that these two fellows have told their wives: "Love, I need some exercise. It's not good enough that we go about living our empty, sedentary lives, eating rubbish, drinking too much wine and generally carrying on like teenagers. No, things are going to change ! That's why I've invested in these top of the range high tech, carbon fibred sneakers! They way I look at it, the three hundred bucks I paid is an investment ." Then they opt to powerwalk down to the local greasy spoon and feast on a fry up. BAH!

Believe me when I say that the following statement is not idle boastfulness or patriotic nonsense : the Hobart City Council’s Salamanca parking inspection crew are the world’s most diligent , efficient , ruthless and bloodthirsty parking inspectors in the world. Within seconds of someone's parking docket running out of time, you can be guaranteed that one of the boys and girls in [powder] blue will be there ready, willing and able to unpeel one of their little orange stickers, print out the notice of fine, and smile all the while. My favourite sight is seeing the orgasmic bliss on the face of one of the brave soldiers of justice when they manage to ticket a car already possessing a ticket. I'd expect back flips on that rare occasion when you get the treble. I'm thinking of distributing little yellow ribbons in honour of them.

One of my very few shots that contain people (not spawned by me). Here we are on a chilly winter's afternoon waiting at the lights on Davey Street. Hats are indeed in order, and even dear little Ampelmännchen is starting to feel the chill! Alas, winter is departing! This morning, I awaited the bus amid glorious spring sunshine . Sure, there was snow on the mountain and it was four degrees when I arrived in town, but blue sky and a heartening sun can do a lot to cheer a man up.

You may have noticed that - children of mine aside - I rarely post photographs with people in them. I'm very shy about photographing the mug punters in the street, onlyI don't know why. So here you go, a standard street side view of Hobartians going about their business! I'd like to know what you think is going on here? A complex heroin importation scheme? An insurance scam? Ribald commentary on Beyonce's [ahem] ass ets? Footy tipping gamesmanship? Old school chums? Musings on the whereabouts of Haold Holt? C'mon people! Give a brother a hand...