This will hurt me...

Detritus. Marion Bay, Tasmania's East Coast. July 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... Henry drives the boat. Ezra drives the boat. How the gin and tonic became the British Empire’s secret weapon. Why do people still fly the Confederate flag? Goodbye Ossi: The Demise of Eastern German Identity. The Man Who Invented Modern Probability. Winners of the Red Bull Illume Photo Contest 2013. On Decadence. Defining the Masses: How do we speak objectively about something of which we’re a part? By documenting everything. Scarcity: Why Having Too Little Means So Much.

Oyster or treasure? Soldiers Point/ Fossil Cove, Tinderbox. June 2013. A treat from the lurid isles of Lesbos! Fragment 155 , Sappho A short revealing frock? It's just my luck your lips were made to mock!

Ezra is sorting through an array of shell, trying very hard to find the best one possible to throw at his father...

A rock set among the shells. Derwent foreshore, Bellerive Boardwalk. January 2012. A very special Theme Thursday today, and all that I am seeking is a little BALANCE. It's Australia Day you see, and I hate Australia Day. Now don't get me wrong, I don't hate Australia (some of my best friends are Australians!), I hate Australia Day . I hate the dickheads who shout AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE all day. I hate the pissed dickeads. I hate the dickheads decked out in Australian flag thongs , Australian flag shorts , Australian flag singlets , Australian flag hats waving little Australian flags . In the course of my lifetime Australians have gone from taking pride in their wry snub of ostentatious hubris and wrapping oneself in bits of cloth representing an empty symbolism to the kind of moronic culture that fuses heavy drinking, wrapping oneself in bits of cloth representing an empty symbolism and the kind of macho aggressive xenophobic posturing that has always been present bu...

Events underwater. Just off Errol Flynn Reserve, Sandy Bay. December 2011. Today for Theme Thursday I want to talk about taste. It is generally agreed that there are five basic tastes. Today’s theme is one that does not agree much with me: SWEET. I may be SWEET, but I have no great desire for it. People go on about SWEET want it, are addicted to it and in some cases are enslaved by it; but it has never particularly rocked my world. You see (and you would never guess this by the blog) I like Bitter , Sour and Salty. I have some time for Umami , but it is a clear runner at number four in my list. Colourful events underwater. Just off Errol Flynn Reserve, Sandy Bay. December 2011.

I'm not sure which we like best: waves coming in , or waves going out . Call it a draw.

Spring has sprung which means that [beach] swimming will not be too far away. Ezra can barely contain his enthusiasm.

It's all happening on the down low. Clifton Beach, June 2011. I've long held to the maxim that the gutter is the best place to be, as the view of the stars is simply unparalleled .

Scenes from a film: Walkabout II: Due South

Not eggshells, sea shells. Plenty of ‘em. Calverts Beach, South Arm Peninsula. February 2011. > They say that “ She sells sea shells by the sea shore”. Now, I’m no enemy of Capitalistic endeavour – despite what my critics may claim – but I do believe She , whomever She may be really is obligated to clean up after herself. Look at this mess!

Six million, three hundred and thirty-three thousand, two hundred and eleven. Six million, three hundred and thirty-three thousand, two hundred and twelve. Six million, three hundred and thirty-three thousand, two hundred and thirteen. Six million, three hundred and thirty-three... Hang on a tic, we'll be here a while.

There's such a lot to do. Sorting out these shells is just the start of it...

The Earth seems a very large place at the best of times, but how must it look to a two year old?