This will hurt me...

Life underwater. Clifton Beach, June 2013. Once Were Warriors , Alan Duff: Very dark, very gritty. It's a far bleaker portrayal of life for marginalised Maoris in modern New Zealand than the successful film. Domestic violence, urban violence, poverty, drugs, alcoholism, unemployment, gang warfare, rape, physical and mental abuse, suicide, gender, identity, race and culture are just a few of the subjects explored in gritty fashion. I'm not sure whether reading this is more akin to getting punched in the face or kicked in the guts. One of the two, anyway. A- . Maggie: A Girl of the Streets , Stephen Crane: Urban grit, 1893 style! Originally refused by all publishers because of sexual frankness, it might seem tame to the modern eye but remains shocking enough. C+ .

Sand. Hope Beach, South Arm Peninsula. June 2013. Theme Thursday and I am a bit pressed for time. You see, I am about to take a JOURNEY. A JOURNEY away from my current job and return to the ever-loving bosom of the bureaucracy. Yes, the public service is sweetly calling me back. Not long now, my darling. Not long now…

Nice day for a swim? Fossil Cove/ Soldiers Point, Tinderbox. May 2013. Sunday Top Five ? Anagrams For What? Cracker Ranch Enzyme. Crazy Manner Checker Chance Remark Cry Zen Cancer Czar Reek Hymn A Charmer Neck Cry Zen

A wave hits the photographer. Fossil Cove (a.k.a Soldiers Point), Tinderbox. May 2013. Wordless Wednesday.

Not snorkelling weather. Clifton Beach. May 2013. Sunday Top Five ? That's right, here are Five Words That We Really Need To Start Using In English! Pelinti ( Buli ): You know when you're in a rush to eat a hot pie and you have to open your mouth and tilt your head to avoid burning yourself? Ghanaians have a word for that. Myötähäpeä ( Finnish ): the nicer relative of Schadenfreude . Think, "vicarious embarrassment.” Above us the waves. Clifton Beach. May 2013. Layogenic ( Tagalog ): You know how sometimes you can see something (or someone) from far away and it/ they look pretty good, but when you get a close look it's not quite the case? That's layogenic . Cavoli Riscaldati ( Italian ): a very bad move: trying to revive an unworkable relationship. It literally translates to "reheated cabbage." Litost ( Czech ): I'll defer to Milan Kundera on this one: “a state of torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery.” Th...

I am not kidding when I say that Henry had about 3.5 kilograms of rocks and shells in his various pockets here. Hence the need to grasp strongly to avoid an indecent exposure charge...

Watery Wednesday and I have opted for an afternoon delight ! Because, you know, my motto has always been ‘when it is right, it is right’. Why wait until the middle of a cold, dark night when everything is a little clearer in the light of day? And you know that the night is always going to be there any way. Yes, most of my day-to-day decisions are delegated to the Starland Vocal Band.

Grumplestiltskin. Little Howrah Beach, Howrah. November 2011. This bird is grumpy now that she has found herself featuring on a Watery Wednesday post rather than her preferred option of Avian August , Silver Gull Saturday or indeed Larus Novaehollandiae dies Lūnae Foul look or not though, she tasted lovely .

Henry doesn't know if he's King Canute or Xerxes at the Hellespont. Either way, I suspect that he's have little chance of turning back the tide.

I'm not sure which we like best: waves coming in , or waves going out . Call it a draw.

Watch out on those cliffs. Clifton Beach. June 2011. Sometimes I would like noting more than to sit out on these cliffs (out of the wind), and just watch the sea. For hours and hours and hours and hours. I don't think that there is anything dishonourable in running away from the world to live the life at sea for a time.

The little bloke has nerves of steel, the constitution of an ox and the character of an aged Bactrian camel. Just look at that resolute gaze as the frigid waves crash into him!

Good luck, seagull. Seven Mile Beach, May 2011. I shall be in Launceston by the time this post goes up, putting the finishing touches on the project that I have been working on for (nearly) the past year. It’s been a bit of a slog, and arrives just at the point when the government realises that there is no more money. Yet these things have a way or sorting themselves out. Then…? Something else. There’s always something else. I just wish that this something else was for a little more money.

It might be too cold to swim – outdoors at least – but it’s never too cold for the beach! You will all be pleased to know that Ezra has started his swimming classes, and he’s already excelling. I call him “my little bluefin tuna”. Just so you know.

Look at that ear. Just look at it. Isn’t that a great ear?

Cliff at one end of Clifton Beach. Clifton Beach. March 2011. A busy week this week means that I've only got through the one book (still a few pages left on the current). But what a book! Оди́н день Ива́на Дени́совича . [Ahem] One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich is Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's classic description of life in a Soviet labor camp in the 1950s, describing a single day of an ordinary prisoner, Ivan Denisovich Shukhov. Seemingly as much known for its actual publication (a significant event in Soviet literary history), it's also a cracking read. Essentially an exploration of authoritative oppression and camp survival, Solzhenitsyn used his first-hand experience in the Soviet Gulag, having been imprisoned from 1945 to 1953 for criticising Joseph Stalin. Oddly enough, for the subject matter One Day in the Life... is actually an uplifting read. I'd very much recommend it to anyone.

The waves churning in at a beach somewhere. Calverts Beach, South Arm Peninsula. February 2011. The other day I was fortunate enough to move desks at work. I’ve moved away from strip florescent lighting, a main street-type thoroughfare and some noisy neighbours to a big picture window, with a million dollar view of the river and (best of all), no florescent lighting. I’m prepared to tolerate the effing and blinding of some of the clients down below. We might have to talk about all those car horns though. Onto books! Circumstances have seen me pressed for time this week, so I only finished the one: Victor Pelevin’s collection of short stories, The Blue Lantern . As a fan of post-Soviet black comedies, Pelevin is right up my alley. The Blue Lantern appeared in 1992, and is infused with the kind of disorder that you’d expect to find in the confusion of the collapse of the USSR. Very ‘Russian’ in tone, this is a fantastic collection well worth checking out. Still more waves. Calverts Beac...

If I could bottle a wave… Opossum Bay, January 2011. I sometimes wonder about people. For example, I know somebody who expends an awful lot of time and energy ‘ pretending ’ to do their job. They sweat at it. It seems to trouble them no end. Elaborate and exaggerated flourishes are performed to ensure that everybody around is aware that they’re ‘hard at work’. It does seem like hard work. I think that it could well be bringing on an ulcer. What I don’t understand is if such effort , such exertion is required, and it’s carried like a huge weight upon the shoulders, why not actually do the job? It’s a novel thought, I know. Radical, even. I wish that I could overcome the (mutual) embarrassment and suggest it. I suspect that truly ‘doing the job’ would be far easier than the task of ‘pretending’ to do the job.

Calvert’s Beach. We really need to get back there. One day when it’s not so windy. Or if it is, during a storm. An electrical storm. That’d make for some photos. Get Henry in the water with a metal umbrella. Good times.

Learning to surf. Clifton Beach, December 2010. We’ve had a bit of a slow reading period over Christmas and the New Year (if you don’t count kids’ books). Actually, I enjoyed the kids’ books somewhat more than one of the novels I just finished. For the record, the new Charlie and Lola book Henry and Ezra got for Christmas – Slightly Invisible – is a tour de force . It is an absolutely new and completely original book from the mind of Lauren Child. Without wanting to give too much away, Charlie and his gravelly-voiced East Ender chum Marv are in search of strange and tricky creatures. Of course, they would prefer to do this without little sister Lola bothering and interrupting. Luckily, Lola knows exactly how to catch strange and tricky creatures and enlists a little bit of help from her (slightly) invisible friend, Soren Lorensen, and the pulsating narrative goes from here…. Equal parts Dostoyevsky and Evelyn Waugh, the forever delightful Charlie and Lola explore the blurred bounda...