Given that Winter has come and gone, I better post this photograph before it becomes even less relevant to Hobart today. Unlike many, I quite like Winter. One of the better things about Tasmania is that we have clearly differentiated seasons, and a nice cold Winter brings a lot to a year long table. Today is just Henry and I doing the bachelor pad thing. Unfortunately Jen and Ezra have had to zip up to Sydney to attend the funeral of one Gerald Fitzgerald, her grandfather and a lovely fellow to boot. Gerald had not been well for a while, but was as sprightly as ever and as sharp as a tack until the very end at the ripe old age of 86. So to the Fitzgerald clan of Sydney I can only offer the above photograph and this poem of somebody else's in his memory. Five Bells Kenneth Slessor Time that is moved by little fidget wheels Is not my time, the flood that does not flow. Between the double and the single bell Of a ship's hour, between a round of bells From the dark warship ridi...