Skip to main content

When we ask for advice, we are usually looking for an accomplice.


Babel Two? The Living Room, Geilston Bay. June 2011.

Another day, another job. By the time this post appears I shall be ensconced down in main street Sandy Bay, not far from my humble abode of a good four or five years. That shall no doubt prompt some interesting moments of deja vu.

Nonetheless, a whole new adventure with a whole new set of potential photographs on the way to and from work (not to mention lunch breaks)!

Comments

smudgeon said…
Burj Dubai's got nothing on this one.

Enjoy the new location/job...
Kris McCracken said…
I also managed to get a video of its demolition.
Roddy said…
Obviously the Tower of Babel arose after your mother and my departure.
Does it actually touch the ceiling as the picture implies?
Good luck with the new job. I'm sure you will make a fist of it.
Hello Kris...
Nice photograph Of Henry, Ezra, and the Tower Of Babel...I too want to wish you, "Good-Luck" with your new employment opportunity.
deedee ;-D
Carola said…
Yes, good luck from me too. Hope it is interesting and you can use just a bit of your talents.

Mhmmh, Duplo is LEGO. But not the ordinary stuff.
Kris McCracken said…
Roddy, before.

DeeDee, I think that I shall need it.

Carola, DUPLO is good stuff.
Roddy said…
I thought that before toppled before it got this high.

Popular posts from this blog

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

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