This will hurt me...

Here is the river Derwent enjoying a spell of good weather yesterday morning. Of course, it is Theme Thursday yet again, and the theme is a challenging one for me, stuck here in Tasmania during the coldest and wetest winter in my memory since that Annus horribilis of 1996. The theme, you see, is that of FESTIVAL. A FESTIVAL is an event , usually staged by a local community, which centres on some unique , interesting or exciting aspect of that community. Back in June we had the Ninth Antarctic Midwinter Festival down here in Hobart, but the only event I wanted to go to got called off because of winter rain. Who knew that Huskies don't like getting wet? You see, it's been too cold, too wet, and there have just been too many pandemic scares to get anyone in a party mood. My house have pretty much seen an endless loop of coughing, cranky and tired people clutching wet handkerchiefs while snapping at each other and grizzling. Oh, and complaining about the endless rain. Yes, th...

Here is a photo from a few months back of Jen attempting to hypnotise Ezra. I've had to dip into the unpublished stock again, because I fear that the recent crop of photos feature cranky, tired and snot-covered dirt magnets, which is not at all the image the world wants or needs to see of Tasmania. Thus, until they sharpen up their acts, you'll have to put up with this lot where theu are adorable, photogenic and/or smiling for the camera!

Here is poor old Henry in the bath. As you can see, he was feeling pretty miserable and haggard from his battle with the flu, and even a bit of a splash and giggle in amongst the bubbles failed to cheer him up!

Sunday was a nice, clear, cold winter's day. At the moment, I will take what I can get. Here is the view south down the Derwent estuary. I'm laid up in bed with whatever it was that has been troubling Henry. Symptoms include a hacking cough, chest pain, an upset stomach, and a general lethargy akin to being stuck at work late. I do believe that today will be the first time ever that I actually taken a sick day. I expect that admission to see me stripped of my title of "Australian", where the Great Australian Sickie is revered more than any frivolous claim to, I dunno, curing cancer.

Nigh on three months old, here is a regal Ez checking the mail. A truncated post this evening, as Henry is feeling poorly, and he may well have passed on the La temido gripe de cerdo Mexicana ...

Here is the little waterfall in the Japanese Garden that's located in the Royal Hobart Botanical Gardens. Stricken by a dose of the flu [¿ La temido gripe de cerdo Mexicana ?, I am not sure], all I can do is lay in a congested pile of misery , plead with Henry to stop jumping on me, and dream of the Japanese Garden. It alone can deliver me peace.

I am kind of lost for words when it comes to today's ad. The kindest thing that I can say is that they image and tagline combination seems somewhat poorly chosen . I know that society is used to the sexualisation of wee bairns in this heady age of Bratz, Brittany and bellbottom trousers [look, I've had a long day, all right, and alliteration sells papers ]. Yet the notion of childlike innocence as a signifier for getting one's horn on , as advanced in the obviously liberal 1970s is off-putting to those of us with [ warning: universal moral judgement coming up ] healthy regard for what is or is not sexy . [Note: the one thing that amused me most about this ad, was the resemblence in make up with some of Bill Henson's models, you know, the ones that were in no way meant to be 'sexy' ...]

Two for the price of one today. Today I've opted for a shot of day-to-day life for many here in Tasmania, the washing drying on the hills hoist. The background to the story is a familiar tale I'm sure: unwell toddler; vomiting; changing sheets; vomiting; changing clothes; vomiting; changing sheets again; vomiting; wiping everything down with nappies; vomiting; and so it goes! Thus, even though we have a non-vomiting, seemingly better (albeit lethargic) little bloke today, there presented before me in the cold, hard light of morning was a mountain of washing that needed to be done. Undaunted, I set about the herculean task and by the middle of the day, six loads of washing was completed! The above photo represents a mere fraction that went through our laundry. I've spared the faint hearted from images of our smalls and concentrated on the cute little Henry-related outfits. The tale of a Sunday spent washing is even more tragic, as it prevented me from presenting a far happie...

I was wondering what to post on the blog, and I thought that maybe I would do something music-related. Now I love music, and am prepared to listen to just about anything. But what to write about? There's so much to choose from. So I've been thinking about this for a while and then yesterday a song that I like came on the ITunes shuffle (with somewhere around 14,000 songs, it could be just about anything), and I found myself dancing around the living room along with Henry, singing out aloud the words to one of my all time favourite tracks. Let me make it clear: I've loved the song Cecilia for as long as I can remember. It's a happy, jaunty little number that was released as a single off the mega-selling 1970 album Bridge Over Troubled Water , and reached #4 in the US charts. Given that I have known the song for my entire life, I'm not really sure when the lyrical content first struck me as, well, interesting . Now, I can remember that the shift from referring to key...

The gastro has hit Hobart and the streets are aways with vomit and poo! The end of days is upon us...

A lovely walk to work this morning, it felt very much like Spring has sprung, even though I think we have a few days until it is official! Feeling a bit better too, after grappling with my first ever case of Gastro on the weekend. Not pleasant at all. I think it was an early Father's Day gift from Henry. Here’s hoping that the lovely Jennifer manages to avoid it! I know that she has been meticulous with her hand washing.