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Showing posts with the label Princes Park

Admiration is a very short-lived passion, that immediately decays upon growing familiar with its object.

Guess which of my babies this one is?

We all need money, but there are degrees of desperation.

Arrr, look out, gar! Thar be some 'ery naughty people approachin' us on the port side and Me think that their intentions be somewhat less than honourable.

In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.

You've been TRAPPED!!! Have you ever seen that television programme Trapped ? It's a popular item in our household. At the very least, it's a remarkable opportunity to test you abilities at mastering the art of the many and varied accents of the United Kingdom...

Eagles come in all shapes and sizes, but you will recognize them chiefly by their attitudes.

We spotted her off the bow about two mile so’ so’west. The great white whale: Moby Dick tossell.

Anyone who has begun to think, places some portion of the world in jeopardy.

Climbing climbing climbing climbing climbing climbing climbing climbing.

There is always something suspect about an intellectual on the winning side.

It’s a TRAP! Princes Park, Battery Point. January 2011. If you really want to know more, see below. If you don’t, please join me in humming the theme from the film The Great Escape …

You can tell a lot about a fellow's character by his way of eating jellybeans.

I can’t be certain, but it appears that Jen here is attempting to eat Ezra.

The world is weary of statesmen whom democracy has degraded into politicians.

We’ve been continuing our preparations for the pirate life. This has generally involved a lot of shouting and a fair bit of ‘net work’. We’re holding back on the grog drinking and spitting for the time being. Next up though, we need to get our hands on a parrot and start looking for gold doubloons…

I am the grass

Keep on the grass. Princes Park, Battery Point. December 2010. The blandly-titled Princes Park features the impressive structure that lures children from all over Hobart. Unfortunately, it seems that Battery Point has some kind of dress code, as all the kids seem to be little fashion plates... Grass , Carl Sandburg Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work--- I am the grass; I cover all. And pile them high at Gettysburg And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun. Shovel them under and let me work. Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor: What place is this? Where are we now? I am the grass. Let me work.

There is a point at which methods devour themselves.

Next stop: the entrance of the Philadelphia Museum of Art! [If you can pick that reference, five points .]