You can't handle the truth!

I am in Canberra today (the nation's capital for all you fun fact hunters out there), for more meetings! Such is the joy of being boss for the time being. It will be a shorter trip than Sydney though, and hopefully one free of cake.

That said, the robot and I have conspired to keep to photograph's rolling along. This one is of Hobart's mighty Derwent River. Like the Nile, Amazon and Mississippi rolled into one, this is one impressive bit of drink. There is no hyperbole in that description either, because as I have told you a million times, I hate exaggeration.

Err, this isn't the river, this is the Hydro Building on Elizabeth Street.

Tip for new bloggers, be extra careful when pre-posting late at night before a trip away!

Comments

USelaine said…

As always, I am prepared to believe.

2 December 2008 at 11:06

Neva said…

hmmm.....the river is exactly where? nice building...hope your stay was uneventful....

2 December 2008 at 12:55

Benjamin Madison said…

An amazing river! Very deep!

2 December 2008 at 15:46

Priyanka Khot said…

You did not use enough words to describe the impressive river... Niles, Amazon or even our good old Ganges is no competition to this one :-)

2 December 2008 at 16:09

Megan said…

That's no river...

2 December 2008 at 18:41

Anonymous said…

Thanks for visitng me. You have a lot of variety here- plenty to see! I will be back again soo:)

2 December 2008 at 19:04

Julie said…

A Few Good Men

4 December 2008 at 00:02

Kris McCracken said…

USelaine, that’s what we love about you!

Neva, oops.

Benjamin, double oops.

8 December 2008 at 10:28

Kris McCracken said…

Priyanka, the good old Ganges! Do people still wash their clothes in there?

Megan, triple oops.

Lisasarsfield, ahh, but no river today!

Julie, I have a couple of them.

8 December 2008 at 10:29

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...

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