(My) Photo of the day

I had grand plans for today's photo. As I have previously mentioned, I was scheduled to present at a conference today. My thinking had been that I could take a photo from the lectern, and share with you a presenters-eye-view. Alas, by the time I took the stage, the light in the room was all on me, thus rendering any photograph very poor.

Despite a throbbing headache and intense tiredness, I'd like to think that I offered a solid performance, with a rising crescendo to end. In cricketing terms, think of a number five coming in after a few quick wickets, constructing a solid half century, followed by some lusty hitting off a tired attack to take me to 85 not out by the close of play!

But all of this self-aggrandisement had left me no closer to having a photo ready for you today. Thus, I was left with one last task as I dragged myself from the conference venue back to the bus mall. Despite the darkness, I felt that I owed the world a photograph from today.

Thus you get this. The Hobart General Post Office has looked better, but I've not featured it on this blog yet, so it seemed a worthy subject. The heritage listing is positively gushing: "The General Post Office, constructed in 1905, is an imposing public building of historic, social, aesthetic and design significance." Reading the full write-up, you do get a fuller sense of why the building is one of the most notable in Tasmania.

Back to the conference tomorrow, and I promise to endevour to get some interesting 'Hobart conference action shots' to whet the appetite that everyone seems to have at the moment around the public policy around alcohol!

Comments

Mary Stebbins Taitt said…

A lovely night photo, beautifully captured and lit. :-D

29 April 2008 at 03:49

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

Search This Blog