Life . It's all around us. This life is on the side of the Colonial Mutual Life Building in Hobart (click the link to see the building). Someone once said that "life is what happens when you're making other plans". Therefore, life seems to involve a lot of vacuuming, picking toys up, putting books on the bookshelf, picking books up, putting books back on the bookshelf, complaining about babies who pull down books from the bookshelf. It's an experience, this life lark...
Here's a Hobartian winter sunrise (when it isn't raining), for your perusal. I think that the two columns there are masts from a couple of super maxi yachts parked down in Constitution Dock. I have just heard that poor old Michael Jackson has died. As someone of the firm opinion that Whacko Jacko's work enables him to stand in the column marked Musical Genius (at least until it all started to go pear shaped . I am wondering, what do people think of the guy? Pop genius ? Kiddie Fiddler ? Tortured child trapped in a man’s body ? Punch line to a thousand jokes ?
What cruel , inhuman , rotten scoundrel devised this week’s Theme Thursday topic? One cannot express the dismay that accompanies writing a post about SUMMER , when it has been relentlessly raining for the past three hours. Oh yes, I shall write about summer, shall I? I'll write about summer when it’s dark when I leave for work, and it’s dark when I come home from work. I'll write about summer when it’s freezing in the morning waiting at the bus stop, and it is freezing when I wait at the bus stop to get home from work. I'll write about summer when it’s been raining when I leave home for work, it’s raining when I get home from work. I'll write about summer when the fact is that I hate work. I'll write about summer when, in their infinite wisdom, Metro Tasmania have decided that WINTER would be a good time to dick around with the bus routes to Hobart’s eastern shore, which entails standing around for extended periods – exposed to the dark, cold and rainy e
Henry has a stick. There's a bit of green about. I kept an eye out for crocodiles, but they are never easy to spot in the long grass. If we spot one, I have a plan. It involves the stick, but I don't want to show my hand too early.
The sun, the yardarm, clouds, a ruddy great crane: what could be finer on a cold winter's morning? A sleep in? A cuddle? Sex? A long, hot bath? BAH! It's off to work for me to be kicked in the head repeatedly again. It's been a good week, yes...
Here is the littlest hobo young man in my life showcasing some excellent "standing up" skills. He is also trying out his "climbing up" skills; "banging head" skills; "falling over" skills; as well as a fine line in "shrieking like a banshee".
The sky as seen through the trees down in Salamanca last Thursday. Have you even had one of those mornings that kicks you in the face about, oh, a dozen times reminding you just how much it is that you hate about your job. Fair enough your face dulls to the kicks over the week, but by christ they hurt on a Monday morning!
There is just something about power lines and street lights that I like. Perhaps it is the fact that they are an almost omnipresent feature of modern life. To be honest, when you're wandering around looking for things to snap, the poles every four metres often get a look in. For the record, this pole is in Geilston Bay. Here's today's Sunday Top Five : 1) A vole; 2) One small saucepan; 3) Milan Kundera's The Joke ; 4) A clock radio; 5) Soap. Guess the topic!