Nothing can come of nothing.

Looking north on New Town Road. New Town, July 2010.

I can cope with a bit of darkness and gloom if what little sun there is by late-afternoon keeps delivering the copper-toned skies!

11. THE BEST TV SHOW EVER CREATED:
Seinfeld has to be considered. A show about nothing? Absolutely!

12. THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO?
Jennifer

13. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?
No, although stick me in an unsavoury situation, and I might well feel uncomfortable in the dark!

14. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?
Frederic Manning.

15. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOGNE / PERFUME?
Eau de Krispy.

16. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Brunettes with eyes. Nothing too pale.

17. WOULD YOU RATHER BE SMART OR FUNNY?
I’d like to think that I have a reasonable grasp on both. I’m modest too…

18. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINKS?
Coffee. I have honestly never had an energy drink in my life. I don’t feel like I’m missing much.

19. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?
Cheese. Lots of cheese.

20. IF YOU CAN EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Hot chips.

To be honest, I want hot chips most times.

Comments

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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