The use of history as therapy means the corruption of history as history.

It is Summer in Tasmania, and that usually means two thing: enormous cruiser liners filled with wealthy retirees kitted in gold lamé tracksuits dripping in diamonds; and rain, rain and even more rain. Take a look at these green leaves, can you tell that we're in a drought?

I attended a VIM [Very Important Meeting] today. No cake, no biscuits, no fruit. Just business, and a few thirds of baguettes packed with salad presented lovingly on a platter caked with lettuce leaves. I wish that I had the nerve to take a photograph, but that would risk sending the dogs to the door of this blog, and I'm not sure that I'd want that just yet.

You can always tell the difference between a VIM and a CAC [Casual Aggreable Chat], and it can often be found in the nibblies. One organisation that I deal with regularly cater their CACs with pizzza (an accommodating mob, they usually go a supremo and capricciosa, which allows me to be generous upon the appearance of that abomination of the pizza world: the Hawaiian).

Of course, you'll never see a pizza at a VIM. Similarly, you'll never see sausage rolls, cocktail saveloys, scones, chicko rolls, hot chips or dim sims at a VIM. You never see Tim Tams, Iced Vo-Vos, Monte Carlos or Kingstons at a VIM. VIMs are far above biscuits out of a packet.

I'll be honest with you, I've never even seen cake at a guaranteed, bona fide, fair dinkum VIM. Truth be told, I've never seen anything that I would broach eating at a VIM.

VIMs you see, are not about eating. Pissant talkfests are about cake and biscuits, bitching and moaning. That's not what VIMs are about at all. VIMs are about big wigs pow wowing with VIPs. VIMs are about interfacing. VIMs are about linkages. VIMs are about strategic partnerships between movers and shakers.

VIMs are not about ordinary people.

VIMs are about lots of cucumber, discretely tucked away in napkins on boardroom tables because you can't stuff a thousand dollar suit full of cucumis sativus. That's not what VIMs are about.

Lost inside an adorable illusion and I cannot hide, I'm the one you're using, please don't push me aside, we could've made it cruising, yeah.

Yes it is Theme Thusday again, and today we are talking GLASS . I've three possible hooks to hang my [glass] hat on with this theme. First, the photo! Yes, it is the river again from an odd angle in an interesting light. You can just make out the bottom, which should tell you that I'm right on the shore. In some ways, the distortion of the stones below the surface reminds me of ye olde glass windows, what they call "cylinder blown sheet glass". You can still find some of this around Hobart these days. Thw second link comes from a trip I took to Venice a few years back. You're probably aware that Venice was (is?) a glass-making centre of excellence. If you have ever been there and taken the tour of the glass factories, you might be familiar with the sheer amount of coloured glass that sits at the bottom of the water there. These fragments of glass have been worn down and had their edges dulled by their time in the water, which makes them ample keepsakes for the ...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Happy anniversary baby, got you on my mind

No it is not a webcam, but this photograph was taken a mere forty-five ago on my way in to work. Here you can see a good old fashioned Hobart autumn morning, with the rain pelting down and me getting drenched. This one was taken on the corner of Macquarie and Elizabeth, while I was waiting for the lights to change. Come on Ampelmännchen ! Today is my wedding anniversary, an apparently I need to be showering Jen with leather -related goodies. Va-va-vaVOOM! To you Jennifer, here is a poem I wrote this very morning. Anniversary I love you i love you iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou I LOVE you I love YOU iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou I LOVE YOU iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou Happy anniversary

This will hurt me...

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