This will hurt me...

You'll find me in Carruthers. New Town, July 2010. As I indicated in the Comments yesterday, there are a number of worthy opportunities for photographs to be found around my new stomping ground here in New Town. Regrettably, prudence demands that I omit a number of such opportunities however. I have already mentioned the girls’ only high school located at the entrance of St Johns Park. Thus, I’ve judiciously avoided snapping away at the young ladies, lest I am labelled a filthy old man with a dubious taste in school uniforms. With Ogilvy ruled out as a subject, the State’s only alcohol and other drug Withdrawal Unit is similarly off limits, in the interests of protecting the privacy of staff and patients. Sadly, the object/subject probably of greatest potential for fascinating tranche de vie – the largest public opioid substitution program dispensary in Tasmania – also belongs in my self-imposed prohibited zone. That said, as the sign at the entrance indicates, there is an eclect...

Taken a little after Christmas, here is Henry looking bemused after I reflected upon a tale of lessons learned long ago. Here I found myself and the little bloke standing outside a licensed establishment that sometime ago had a somewhat less than wholesome reputation. I remember one incident clearly, just before closing, with only the tired and emotional flotsam and jetsam that remains after a big night . Of course, at this point flotsam is threatening to smash jetsam's head in with a bar stool over some trifle incident involving the relative merits of Ian Botham over Imran Khan. Kinky Friedman summed up Friday nights like this better than anyone else I can think of when he observed Friday night was the night most people thought they were supposed to have fun. Trouble was most people didn't know what fun was or how to have it, so things usually ended up pretty ugly. So this particular Saturday morning was the ugly child of another Friday night when this 'lady' with cut...