As soon as liberty is complete, it dies in anarchy.

Calverts Beach, oh Calverts Beach, I still hear your sea winds blowin'… Calverts Beach, South Arm. December 2010.

We discoverd a new beach (for us) a couple of weeks back: Calverts Beach, which is down off the beaten track on the South Arm Peninsula. If it ever spots raining, we might get down there again soon!

Panorama of Calverts Beach. Calverts Beach, South Arm. December 2010.

But today isn't Friday BEACH Club, and I am meant to be talking books. The past week saw me finish We can remember it for you wholesale, which is volume five of Philip K. Dick’s collected short stories,

Do you like science fiction? If so, this collection has science fiction leaking out of every pore. As a (very) casual reader of science fiction, I found this collection somewhat uneven. Some of the stories are great, many so-so. One thing that you can be guaranteed, Mr Dick had an almighty imagination…

The other book I read this week was The Takeover by Muriel Spark. As ever, Spark manages to construct an array of odd and intriguing characters. Set amongst a group of wealthy expatriates (and locals) in Italy through the 1970s, once again Spark explores the clash of modernity with ‘traditional’ values, and the pernicious influence of money.

In all, it’s a breezy tale of the undeserving, complacent rich being ripped-off by chancers. As one might expect, every character is free of any authentic moral framework. A decent read, but when all of the characters are so unlikable, it didn’t really grab me.

Calverts Beach, oh Calverts Beach, I still hear your sea waves crashing… Calverts Beach, South Arm. December 2010.

One thing that did grab me though was the description of a particular character (a real specialty of Spark's), as it adequately sums up a lot of people I've met in life, so I wanted to share it with you:

As a specimen, Letizia at eighteen was rounded-off and complete; the finishing touches were already put, there was no room for further contention between character and contours, there was scope only, now, for wear and tear. She was much as she would be, she though much as she would think, and looked not much different from what she would look, at forty-eight.

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...

Search This Blog