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Showing posts from January 4, 2009

(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher

Here is the CSIRO's crane set against some ominous-looking clouds. Naughty clouds! Someone asked me the other day if Tasmania had a state nickname, or a state motto. My response was, "I think so". Of course, I had to look it up. A lot of people called us the Apple Isle at one time, but then Mother Britain got rid of all those tariffs protecting our apple industry, so we haven't been much of a dominant force in the world of apples of late. Tasmanian license plates used to proclaim us the Holiday Isle , but then they were changed in the late 1990s to Tasmania - Your Natural State . I know that Tasmanian's are very proud of the complete absence of breast augmentations here, but sticking in on every number plate may be a little over the top! Since early last year, the State have issued number plates expanding upon the theme, with Tasmania - Explore the possibilities now appearing on new plates. We are quite adventurous here in Tasmania ever since the success of

How many a man has dated a new era in his life from the reading of a book.

I couldn't decide between these two pictures, so I've posted both. Henry and Ezra are already book addicts . In fact, Henry churns through no less than ten a day, usually far more . Indeed, I am starting to worry that we will run out of books to read at the State Library. I'm even trying to get Henry into the Russians, as some of those weighty tomes should slow him down long enough to allow all those authors out there to rush out more books .

There's no such thing as fun for ALL the family.

I think that I am beginning to like 10 Murray Street. For some reason, the building's 1970s aesthetic vibe is starting to grow on me. Every time that I look up at it I feel like growing a moustache, whacking on a pair of bell bottomed slacks (brown, of course), and get myself a winged collar going on. Maybe it’s the global economic downturn or another crisis in the Middle East ™, but it all feels a bit 1973 to me. How that can be is a little strange, because of course 1973 had been done and gone a few years by the time I came along. So I turn to the world and ask: is 2009 shaping up like 1973? Is that a good or a bad thing?

To die would be an awfully big adventure.

Now (probably) Hobart’s most utilised public common, St David's Park was actually the site of Hobart's first cemetery. Indeed, David Collins - the inaugural Lieutenant Governor of the Colony of Van Diemens Land, not to mention founder of Hobart itself – is buried here. Now, don’t get the wrong end the stick. Young lovers aren’t exactly lunching (or worse) on the graves or anything. That would be most inappropriate . No, the bulk of the headstones were carted off years ago, although some of the bigger ones remain for you to peruse as you eat your discount sushi. But not to worry if you are a fan of old grave fields! The area of the park that adjoins the Supreme Court remains home to many of those headstones that used to litter what is now a lush public garden (if not the mouldering remains). Thus, you can while away many an hour inspecting the particulars of particular people long since departed. Look at the tale of poor old Harriet Ann [below], I would wager that she did

Doppelgängers, or just fine lookin’ men?

You will probably recognise the handsome devil on the right, but can you guess the cutie pie one the left?

A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.

Here you can see the view of Lower Sandy Bay from Battery Point, with a seagull lurking in the foreground. This photo was taken just down the road from the house that I lived in when I first moved to Hobart. I've got to admit that walking past it reminded me just how bloody miserable I was at the time. In fact, I was surprised that - in 2009 - just how miserable I remember being throughout 1996. I'm not sure that I was fully aware of the fact at the time. They say that the years between 16 and 22 are the best in your life, I'm quite happy to have found out that this is a crock. Thank god for that. Sleep or no sleep, I think that I have yet to enter my prime .

The quest for certainty blocks the search for meaning. Uncertainty is the very condition to impel man to unfold his powers.

Caution is often a worthy pursuit. Yesterday, the local rag tallied up the names registered in all of their birth notices for 2008, with few surprises on the popularity lists. Yes, there will be many more calls of “Jack”, “Charlie”, “William” and “Oliver”, and wails of “Ella”, “Sophie”. “Mia” or “Charlotte”. And no, poor old Henry and Ezra failed to make the top twenty yet again! But let’s be honest, that’s not what we’re interested in. The real action can be found lower down, in the nonconformist department. How could you go past the fonetik [sic] charms of Jaxon , Deklan , Febie and Koen ? A favourite of mine was sweet little Shakyla (beloved sister of dear little Jakayla ). Other standouts include Avah , Maja , Jagger , and who could forget Bayliss-Jay ? If we are blessed with another boy, I must keep in mind Ajay , Jakem , Brumby , Bensig , Cayd , Fearghas , Taz and Bruck (yes, Bruck !) Obviously if we break the run of boys, we shall have to steer towards Akas

Ads that I like #71

And here I was this whole time thinking that tequila was the medicine for regret!

When the people are being beaten with a stick, they are not much happier if it is called "the People's Stick."

I thought that I'd do Mount Wellington a favour and show you how she looked at lunch today. No snow, but they are apparently predicting cooler temperatures on Thursday, so there is always a chance. There must be a cruise ship on its way! The odds for a decent night's sleep tonight? Slightly less now that I've managed to pick up a nice old burn on my wrist via the oven this evening. Good times.

There will be sleeping enough in the grave

It is an exquisite form of torture, sharing a room with a teething baby. There is something almost to be admired in the proficiency in timing one’s waking to maximise the disruption to his the sleep of both parents. Seriously, wait for them to get in bed, maybe let them browse the Internet a little on matching laptops, let them just nestle into sleep then WHAM! ! ” WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! ” See for me, an intense wail ensures that I won’t back to sleep for a minimum of 45 minutes, but more usually between 45 minutes and 90 minutes. Ez has been waking every two hours. You might be able to see the frustration here. Thus, for every two hour cycle of baby sleep, I generally get somewhere between half hour to an hour. And he doesn’t really go back to sleep after 5 am. And Henry wakes between 6 and 6:30. And I leave for work at 7:20. It is a good thing that he has a nice smile. Oh, the above photo was taken yesterday morning just off Sullivan's Cove. For

We all live under the same sky, but we don't all have the same horizon.

I thought it only fair with you that I share this image snapped during my lunchtime stroll along the sunny Derwent. How about this for a lovely summer sky? The sun is obviously feeling a little like me today: struggling .

The phrase 'work-life balance' tells us that people think that work is the opposite of life. We should be talking about life-life balance.

Back at work. AND I'm all alone in the office. AND politicians' lackies and journalists on the blower every other second. AND I have a blinding headache. AND I am all out of mother's little helpers. AND Ezra didn't want anybody to get sleep last night. AND I have a big pile of 'to dos' on my desk. AND I need a haircut. At least it is starting to feel like summer.

Is ioma doigh a th' air cu a mharbhadh gun a thachdadh le ìm.

It's the last day before I have to return to work, so I spent the morning doing one load of washing after another, out to the regatta grounds for The Hobart Kite Festival (our kite went excellently , I might add), nip back home for a nap (they had one, I didn't), then (after one last load of washing), back out again for the Mercury Kidz in the Park. I'm not sure what exactly kidz are, but there were baby goats. Knowing the Mercury, it was probably a typographical error. Ez proved the best kite flyer of the family, but that should be no shock. Henry ended the kite part of the day with a choc mint ice cream. Yes he chose choc mint over the rainbow option. To close the day, we went out to the beach, had a go on the play equipment, ate squid and chips, and then home to fold washing. Good times. That does mean that I am far too tired to pen anything caustic or witty. I'll sharpen up tomorrow, I promise.


Look, I know that it was in the Australian Financial Review, but I found it funny.