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Showing posts from July 11, 2010

History repeats itself. Historians repeat each other.

Given that the general public have failed to support the Mission to Antarctica with the requisite donations, the lads have had to turn their hands to fast food to raise some money and buy sleeves for the t-shirts they intend wearing down south. Here Henry prepares rollmops and jellied pig's trotters for the masses to enjoy down at the Bellerive park.

Go away girl, go away

Go on then. Castray Esplanade, April 2010. It can be good advice, that found above. I am endeavouring to work up my own poem inspired by the sign, but am struggling for an appropriate final stanza. But it is today’s poem that I wish to praise. Spike gets buttonholed as a “funny man”, but he could turn out a fine bit of poetry or prose when required. I REALLY like this one, particularly those last two lines… Goodbye S.S. , Spike Milligan Go away girl, go away and let me pack my dreams Now where did I put those yesteryears made up with broken seams Where shall I sweep the pieces my God they still look new There's a taxi waiting at the door but there's only room for you

Justice and judgement lie often a world apart.

Ezra's disdainful sneer still needs a bit of work. When the expedition sets out, Henry will handle the dumb questions, Ez will take the ones that require positive youthful exuberance.

Funeral by funeral, theory advances.

Alpine vegetation is dominated by heath and shrubberies. See. Mount Wellington, May 2010. A sprinkling of snow on the mountain yesterday morning, it was gone by lunchtime though. If I were a flower, I wouldn't be able to decide whether I'd be a pansy or a hardy little Gaultheria hispeda . I'd steer clear of thorns. Thorns are for pricks.

One of the lessons of history is that nothing is often a good thing to do and always a clever thing to say.

One thing that great explorers need to develop is a disdainful sneer . Whether faced by a rabid flock of penguins or FM Radio traffic announcers, a good media performer needs an effective pose to inform the world of their innate superiority . This is what Henry is working on here. I am told that he resembles his father here. I do disdain very well. Disdain and disgust.

Every man of genius sees the world at a different angle from his fellows, and there is his tragedy.

Sharks patrol these waters. July 2010. So here we are back again at Theme Thursday , and the Gods submitters have been kind to me with this week’s theme. You see, I started a new job on Monday. Thus far – and despite the fact that I have picked up a nasty little cold – I am finding it an immeasurable improvement on the last one. Granted, this can be likened to the assertion that one much prefers not having viral meningitis than having viral meningitis, but the point should not be diminished. You see, I don’t need HELP. For the first time in a long, long while I don’t want to lean back at the end of the day and scream “HELP!” Thus, to tie up the theme with the image: today I am luxuriating in bubbles, warm water and having my back sponged by a beautiful lady. Three weeks ago was more like this .

A life which does not go into action is a failure.

Obviously the boys will need to be well acquainted with a vast array of nautical equipment to successfully row to the Antarctic before they attempt to reach the pole barefoot . Therefore, I've had Ezra put his mind to memorising over twenty-seven thousand specific knots and a sound knowledge of splices. Here, he is lining up rows of buoys and applying various buntline hitchs, bowlines, Spanish bowlines, verstackles and a whole line of variations of reef knots.

A friend in power is a friend lost.

L'Astrolabe waits down in Salamanca. June, 2010. The new job, a common cold, difficulties matching up bus schedules and the tricky art of walking around taking photos right outside a large girl's high school (right on the entrance to my new work site) mean that I haven't 'processed' any new images yet. Should get a few online by the weekend though. I am pleased to report that I am settling in to the new position nicely. The hefty salary increase more than makes up for being rewarded with a battery pen cubicle smack bang in the middle of the top floor of my building. There's nothing quite like have a workstation within sight lines of everybody on the floor!

The ego is not master in its own house.

One of the hardships of life at the southern pole is the lack of suitable hostels, hotels or bed and breakfasts. Thus, it is essential that the lads are prepared, lodgings-wise. Because donations have been slow in coming in, we are preparing a couple of old cardboard boxes stuffed with discarded dog blankets to offer protection against the unforgiving Antarctic conditions.

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Did you get that? If you go without the caviar, yachts, diamond-studded rabbit feet and organic imported civit poo coffee for a few days; a poo old deceased third world child will rise from the dead . Or something.

Life is half spent before we know what it is.

This retired old oval has seen better days. Geilston Bay, July 2010. Where have all the children gone? Probably disappeared down the holes, if you have seen he state of that ground. If anyone is looking for some moles, voles, ferrets and gophers, I do believe that you'll find them here .

That's the true spirit of Christmas; people being helped by people other than me.

Continuing our preparation for the conquering the pole , I've set Ezra on an extracting regimen of САМозащита Без Оружия . If the lads are expected to survive the tests that crossing Antarctica barefoot (we need more sponsorship money for proper shoes) will throw at them, a sound knowledge encyclopaedic knowledge of the fighting arts is vital . I expect that the Emperor Penguins will not take too kindly to interlopers, and thus my intrepid explorers must be ready to take all comers. Sambo will give them this. I have it on good authority that penguins are well versed in ju-jitsu...

The cleverest of all, in my opinion, is the man who calls himself a fool at least once a month.

This tree is wired for sound light. June 2010. Today is my first day in a new job. I have - as Max Weber boldly predicted many moons ago - been drawn into the stahlhartes Gehäuse ! Yes, I am to be a Bureaucrat! While not quite a ' man in Whitehall ', I have been drawn into administering the "polar night of icy darkness". Rational calculation has now reduced me to a cog in the bureaucratic machine. Of course, going into this with the realisation already assured, I will no doubt be seeking to transform myself to a bigger cog. I hope that there is cake.

The most potent weapon of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed.

After the exploits off all round annoying brat true blue dinky di Aussie hero™ Jessica Watson , I have commenced a rigorous A series of training drills for both Henry and Ezra, to prepare them for conquering the pole , on foot, unassisted and unaccompanied by adults! I figure that it is a sure-fire money spinner way to empower young Australians to reach their goals , live their dreams and overcome the scourge that is the obesity epidemic™. If you would like to support this worthy cause, please send cash. Plenty of it. Quickly.

Show me a sane man and I will cure him for you.

Seagulls in congress. Geilston Bay, May 2010. I went down to the jetty back in May to discuss possible topics for the Sunday Top Five . Thankfully, we settled on an easy one: My Top Five Ten ELEVEN Soccer Players' Names ! Laughter Chilembe Suprise Moriri Have-A-Look Dube Danger Fourpence Creedence Clearwater Couto Segar Bastard Norman Conquest Bongo Christ Wolfgang Wolf Argelico Fucks Harry Daft Now, between you me and the seagulls, which do YOU like best?