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Showing posts with the label no golf allowed

It is often wise to reveal that which cannot be concealed for long.

Just don't. Geilston Bay High lower oval. Geilston Bay. January 2013. Today's Sunday Top Five is one with a legal bent. We know about the golf, but here are Five Other Things That You Can't Do On This Oval Besides Golf! [For more information, see the Tasmanian POLICE OFFENCES ACT 1935 .] A person must not be drunk while in charge of any vehicle or when in possession of any dangerous weapon. A person shall not habitually consort with reputed thieves. A person must not beg or expose wounds or deformities, or place himself or herself or otherwise act so as to induce, or attempt to induce, the giving of alms, or instigate or incite a child to do any of those things. A person shall not sing any profane or obscene song. A person, being the owner or usual keeper of a horse, mule, hinny, ass, ox, pig, sheep, or goat shall not permit the animal to graze or stray on the oval.

The atmosphere of orthodoxy is always damaging to prose, above all it is ruinous to the novel, the most anarchical of all forms of literature.

I think that we should just ban golf altogether. Geilston Bay High School, Geilston Bay. November 2011. Another couple of books finished this week, as I slowly make my way to the magic to the magical 100 for the year (I am currently sitting at 98*). First up is Bodily Secrets by William Treevor. A slender collection of short stories by a fine writer, the collection revolves around the theme of relationships (and yes, ‘love’). At once tender and taut, it is a great little book that covers the whole gamut of emotions. Recommended. Second up is Nobel Prizewinner Imre Kertész's Liquidation a very Central European dose of introspection that mixes quite radical departures in style (there is a a text-within-a-text-within-a-text) and some pretty heavy intellectual chicanery in the way that it constructs its existential dilemma in the face of the existence of Auschwitz. There is a fair whack of self-reflexivity here, as once again Kertész mulls the weighty shadow of the camp that he spen...