This will hurt me...

Leaving on a jet sea plane. In front of Mount Wellington, Hobart. December 2012. Theme Thursday today and it's all about the IMAGINATION. You know, IMAGINATION. Flying pigs. Alien abductions. Reward for merit. That kind of thing. Like this plane. Chartered by an "Ashok Kumar" out of the city of Kanpur in Uttar Pradesh, the plane was loaded with a collection cheap plaster statutes of the oft-overlook Saint Chrysogonus. Naturally, people viewed Kumar's actions with suspicion. After all, what would the son of an impoverished street poori-sabji seller be doing shipping religious knick knacks at the arse end of the world? Despite what you might think, Ashok's motives were pure. Well, pure in the sense that love, lust and the desire to disrobe in front of the extraordinarily beautiful and nubile young seamstress from next door is an entirely reasonable motivating force in the life of any young man. Obviously, you need to shift an awful lot of curried treat...

Coming in to land. Seven Mile Beach. October 2011. All I can muster is, "What would Robbie Burns say?" To which all I can reply is, "Mah god! that is indeed a body enormoos metal spyug up thaur in th' lift!" To a Mouse, On Turning her up in her Nest with the Plough , Robert Burns Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, O what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee Wi' murd'ring pattle! I'm truly sorry man's dominion Has broken nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request: I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave, And never miss't! Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin! Its silly wa's the win's ar...

Heading in a north easterly direction. Looking up from the vantage point of Bathurst Street, Hobart. March 2011. I stick the thumb out, but they never stop. Why not?

Coming in to land at Hobart International Airport (as seen from Seven Mile Beach). February, 2010. By the time that this post appears, I shall have already been up in a plane - very much like this one - and stalking the mean streets of Melbourne. I'm hoping that I manage to escape the hotbed of gangland mayhem and murder without a hit being taken out on me. Thankfully, three things rest in my favour: i) it's a fly in and out all in the one day; ii) I'm not sure that the drug king pins are too fussed by me; iii) there is an ever increasing shortage of drug king pins to be fussed.

An aeroplane comes in to land at Hobart International Airport as seen from Seven Mile Beach, February 2010. If I could catch a plane to anywhere in the world, where would you go? Moreover, what would you do with your kids? Is their much to do in Oulu for toddlers?

Little planes zipping about give the kiddies and I such pleasure. We see them here and there, and it never fails to amuse. I snapped this little bloke re-enacting the bombing of Guernica just outside our backyard! The Death Of The Ball Turret Gunner , by Randall Jarrell From my mother's sleep I fell into the State, And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze. Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life, I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters. When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose. Authors note: "A ball turret was a Plexiglas sphere set into the belly of a B-17 or B-24, and inhabited by two .50 caliber machine-guns and one man, a short small man. When this gunner tracked with his machine guns a fighter attacking his bomber from below, he revolved with the turret; hunched upside-down in his little sphere, he looked like the foetus in the womb. The fighters which attacked him were armed with cannon firing explosive shells. The hose was a s...

One of the exciting things about a visit to Seven Mile Beach is the aeroplane landings. Any visit longer than half an hour, and you're guaranteed to see a jet come in to land. It really is the bees knees.

I snapped this photo on New Years Eve. I have no idea what kind of plane it is, and rolled a dice that it would be a Yak-3 or maybe a F4F Wildcat. It could just as easily be a Sopwith Camel, for all I know, however. If anyone can identify it, I'd welcome your input. Today's Top Five? My Top Five Boys Names That I Don't Like That End In 'Den' ! 1: Jaiden 2: Raiden 3: Clayden 4: Aiden 5: Slayden (I saw this one the other day)