This will hurt me...

Ezra's philosophy is to just stuff it all in at one go and force it all down...

This one was taken in October. He already looks at least 2 years older!

Jam + scones = sticky crumbs!

Larus dominicanus is nibbling on something. Opossum Bay, December 2010. Larus dominicanus – A.K.A. the Kelp Gull – is a large black-backed gull with a white tail and a large yellow bill with a red spot on the lower tip. Alas, It is only the second largest (or should that be the first smallest ?) gull in Australia. The wing has a wide trailing edge and a small white 'window' in the wingtip. This is how I tell ‘em apart from the bigger and friskier Pacific Gull. In terms of tucker, the Kelp Gull takes what it can get on both land and water, but rarely in the air. It feeds mainly on fish and crustaceans, but will scavenge when it gets a chance. I understand that they have a predilection for pommes frites , Schwartenmagen and 1945-vintage Chateau Mouton-Rothschild Jeroboam . If it cannot get that dish, it gets anxious. Indeed, Kelp Gulls have been observed feeding on living Southern Right Whales. In desperation, it will plunge its mighty beak to peck down inches into the skin a...

Nothing beats a good, old-fashioned, homemade chocolate self-saucing pudding. Well, Ezra agrees with me anyway…

Look Ma, no hands! It's an eternal equation: (lamington + sausage roll) * no hands = MESS.

de Maistre?!?! You're insane. And you can take your Burkean nonsense and stick it too. Marx was right about that toad to the bourgeoisie.

Sometimes all a man needs is to sit back, relax, and eat his squid .

Ezra is learning to eat without help. He's getting there. Slowly. As an interesting point of comparison, here is Henry coming to grips with yoghurt way back in February '08 (which would make him a few months older in that photo than Ez is now).

He's got a smile on his dial, I can't ask for much more than that!

What would a walk in the Tasmanian wilderness be without wildlife? Rubbish, that’s what! After unsuccessfully trying to locate a tiger snake, we did manage to get a look at a pademelon. It was lovely. It went beautifully with the matured cheddar and bottle of Pinot Noir that we bought with us!

Last week you saw Ezra at the fish 'n chip joint by the water front, this week I can present Henry from that very same day. Sweet little angel that he is, when we'd served up the various squid, scallops, prawns, fish and (most importantly) chips; Ez decided that he wanted milk right there and then. Now, please understand that my children - being the engaged, interested lads that they are - generally refuse to breast feed if there is anyone else talking, moving or breathing within a twenty metre radius. This necessitated the holder of the milk (poor old Jen) removing herself from the plate of tasty treats in order to find a quiet spot up on the pier to quell the brewing storm within young Ezra. Easy enough, one might think. The chips can wait. Enter Henry. Jen was barely one foot out of the door when Henry made a dash for her assorted seafood and chips. Ever the gent, I stepped in and said "no Henry, they're Mummy's chips". Henry tried again, and I again trie...

Much like the time I found myself stuck on a borrowed bike hurtling down the hill with no brakes, I discover that it is again time for Theme Thursday ! And what a theme it is! As you may know, I have two sons, dear Henry [above, at seven months] and sweet Ezra [below, also at seven months]. Both are wonderful young men, kind, thoughtful, emotionally manipulative loving. In many ways they are alike: big strapping lads capable of powerful kicks that would put a bucking bronco to shame. They are also, it must be said, quite different. Henry is, shall we say, very naughty challenging all of the time occasionally. Strong willed, aggressive, prone to random acts of violence exuberance, he is trouble loud a delight. Ezra is a little more laid back. More a smiler than a fighter, he's like Jimmy Buffet sans the Hawaiian shirt. Although he has the grip of a Polish washer woman and capable of blows that would put most current American heavyweights down inside two rounds, he exhibits a...

Is there anything that says AUSTRALIA more than a little bloke chomping down on broccoli and potato? I doubt it! For the title of the previous post, I decided to run with the very famous observation of Samuel Johnson, but in reality, I am inclined to to agree with Ambrose Bierce's observation some century or so later: In Dr. Johnson's famous dictionary patriotism is defined as the last resort of a scoundrel. With all due respect to an enlightened but inferior lexicographer, I beg to submit that it is the first. The idea of being intensely proud of one's country is always one that has interested me. Now, I like Australia, a lot. I think that it is the best place to live in the world. I think that we have the best food, (plenty of) the best looking sheilas, the best beaches, the best sharks, crocs and easily the best poisonous biting and stinging things. So, you know, we've a lot of things to be proud of. But what we've seen appear is a sort of oddly quixotic yobbis...

The topic for today's first post came to me while preparing Henry’s breakfast this morning (and helping him eat it), I got to thinking about a topic that has crossed my mind on other accessions in the past, and has yet to be satisfactorily resolved. What do people feed their kiddies for breakfast in other cultures? Now, Henry probably has the stereotypical Australian breakfast: Two Weet-bix (albeit with rice milk); Toast liberally smeared with Vegemite; Water; A little bit of the raspberry cake that I made yesterday. This was a reward for being a good boy this morning, and not standard practice. I might be wrong, but I have in my mind convoluted ideas about French kiddies gnawing croissants and fancy pastries; Sami kiddies tearing at dried reindeer; Mexican kiddies scoffing breakfast burritos; German kiddies nibbling on cold meats and boiled eggs; Inuit kiddies gulping down seal; Indian kiddies eating daal and naan; Kenyan kiddies chowing down on some sort of maize porridge; Swed...