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
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Doc
I didn't hurry this (boys do take longer unless you can use the old country method of leaving them in w/o nappies - do you call them that? - in the back yard all summer)...and as we drive A LOT here it was convinient not to have to stop (well, we did have to but not immediately).
Aaah...toilet training...I forgot how tedious it can be! But always keep in mind the wise words spoken to me when I was bemoaning one of my boys lack of immediate success and which helped me not to be too disheartened....
"He'll do it when he's ready. Besides, have you ever seen an eighteen year old still in nappies????"