This will hurt me...

After play group, Henry and I meandered back home, stopping for a while to watch the reserves turn out at the Henry Fitzgerald McCracken Football and Cricket Arena . Despite the lack of wind, the full forward for the visiting team seemed to be having a rough day of it. He kicked four straight points in the period of our watching. His own coach was rubbishing him by the time we left. Some days are diamonds, some days are stones. I think that's what the coach meant by shouting to his rover, "why are you kicking it to that f$%&wit? You must have f#%&@$g rocks in your head!"

Here you can see the hotel Grand Chancellor, a flash, if somewhat overrated (in my opinion) boarding house by the water in Hobart. Short of inspiration, I thought that I'd dig out another old poem. By and large, I'm not a huge fan of Ezra Pound's work, but when you have such a ripping opening line, you just have to like the one! The Temperaments Ezra Pound Nine adulteries, 12 liaisons, 64 fornications and something approaching a rape Rest nightly upon the soul of our delicate friend Florialis, And yet the man is so quiet and reserved in demeanour That he passes for both bloodless and sexless. Bastidides, on the contrary, who both talks and writes of nothing save copulation, Has become the father of twins, But he accomplished this feat at some cost; He had to be four times cuckold.

Another comic. And a filthy comic at that! You might have come across this one: XKCD , a webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language.

I have had a terribly long day today, so I shall just leave you with this photo that I took this morning and a note that this here post is number 500 for this blog. I will be honest and admit that I didn't think that I'd get this far.

This is an ad for a toy. That's right, a toy for kids. No jokes. ... Fucking hell .

A grey old day today, as this photograph will attest. At the moment I am halfway through Pat Barker's Regeneration trilogy, which I am enjoying - if that is the right word - very much. I will endeavour to put pen to paper (fingers to keyboard?) afterwards and talk a little bit about them, but for the moment the experience has sent me back into the work of the poets of World War One. For whatever reason, this grey sky had me thinking of a poem by Wilfred Owen that I first read maybe twenty years ago, and remains a favourite today. I thought that I would share it. Somehow, the words are even more powerful when you know a little about Owen's life and his eventual fate. Strange Meeting by Wilfred Owen It seemed that out of the battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which titanic wars had groined. Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned, Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred. Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared

Be warned, this cartoon has a touch of 'blue' language. That said, I heartily endorse this message. If you like the 'toons, check out The Rut . It's packed full of them!

I know that it looks like Elmo has suffered an OD, but he hasn't. He's just had a long day. There's only so much bangers and mash in brown onion gravy that a little red monster can take before it's time for bed. That said, there is a certain vibe about the above photo that screams Keef Richards at the Villefranche-sur-Mer, and I've seen Elmo and Henry stagger around the room to Tumbling Dice enough to know that neither would have been out of place during the sessions for Exile on Main Street . On other matters, I would like to wish everybody a belated Merry Bastille Day for yesterday. I feel that Henry has the potential to be a future Robespierre to his father's Saint-Just, only with far more tickling and far less bloodshed. Also, we've had some good feedback on the impending baby's name , but I'm still open for more. To answer one question, Elmo isn't on the list because we already have an Elmo living here. Two would be overkill, and probably

With baby number two rapidly approaching [t minus 24 days and counting] , we have not appeared to have got much closer to determining a name agreeable to all. So again , I appeal to the wisdom of the crowd for assistance. The boundaries: first, replications of initials are problematic and best avoided which means that K, J and H are excluded. Second, it has to sit comfortably with “Henry Fitzgerald McCracken” which obviously further limits the choices. The short lists as they currently stand: Boys:   Otto, Ezra, Frederick, Levi, Isaak, Albert, Conrad. Girls: Clementine, Izetta, Audrey, Ivy, Violet, Astrid, Iris. Obviously I have my favourites, Jennifer has hers, and Henry definitely has his. The problem is reaching broad agreement. Seriously, the stalemate here makes Yalta look like a breeze. I am happy to take new suggestions or endorsements on any on offer above.

Being Monday, today was Pregnastics day again, which meant that Henry and I had to decided what to do for the evening. After a long and vigorous debate (we nearly came to blows), we finally settled on making ANZAC biscuits. That way, Jennifer would have a treat ready when she came home, and also have a bribery option should mini-Mussolini play up tomorrow. Thus, the photo that you see above are the fruits of our labour (minus a few that had to be taste tested prior to the photo session). Some of you would no doubt be very familiar with the ANZAC biscuit, but I would wager than even more are not. For the benefit of those who haven't heard of - or tasted - them, I will give a bit of back story. Even better, I'll give you a 100 percent guaranteed easy peasy recipe! Now, there are a few theories on the origins of ANZAC biscuits, but what we do know is that they emerged in their present form during the First World War. For the REAL beginners, the term 'ANZAC' originated as a

I was having a fiddle on teh Internets the other evening, and I happened upon a website project that I thought that I would share with everyone. The project is Picture Australia and it is connected to the National Library of Australia . It has only been up for a little while, so I am sure that it will only get better. The point of the project is to Re-Picture Australia . This essentially means that the site itself allows ready access to public domain images from participants, ready for people to download, mash-up and reload with new meaning into Picture Australia via a Flickr group . I’ll quote from the media release to give you the general idea: The aim of the project is to encourage the creative use of the nation’s collections and attracting new audiences who play and work in the visual industries. We are encouraging image-makers to creatively reuse, reinterpret and ‘Re-Picture’. Picture curators from libraries, archives, galleries, and museums from around the country have provided

This photograph could be one of a number of things. It could be something boringly predictable, like a public art installation that ruminates on the impact of climate change on Antarctica. (Both Tasmanian artists and visiting international artists have a rather dreary tendency to focus a little too much on environmental themes in public art displays. At any given time, you can find DOZENS of gallery showings musing on man's - yes, usually that reductive - negative impact on mother Earth.) It could be discarded snow cones piled high in the wake of the Winter Festival. (Tasmanians love eating snow cones whenever you can see snow on Mount Wellington. MILLIONS and MILLIONS of snow cones are eaten in the winter months, the most popular flavours being penguin , fur seal , southern right whale , and good old fashioned lard . It could be a bunch of firecrackers set up in readiness to celebrate the one hundred and thirtieth anniversary of the Treaty of Berlin , which famously recognised