heavenly

The freezing waters of a lagoon in Jervis Bay, south of Sydney. This day in January it was full of rays.

Carymbia ficifolia with Apis mellifera

This Autumn is golden and mild. Even in Melbourne the breeze is delicate. The last of the flowering gum has shaken off its bounty. Bees are packing it in for the winter. Buzz.

I cycled by the canal

I can't quite remember where I took this photo.

Keating!

In Melbourne again, and on Friday night Marlowe, Tintarella, Violet Towne and I gave ourselves up to the brilliant, loud, sharp and funn-ee Australian musical Keating! No, not songs about what fun it is to keat, but a romp through the political landscape 1990 to 1996, the rise and reign of Paul Keating. Some of you will already know of my slavish admiration of the Zegna-suited, sharp-tongued, suave Mr K, Prime Minister, Man of Integrity and bookstore customer.

The show was a cracker. The musical is through-composed* in a wonderful and loving pastische of styles. It is written by Casey Bennetto, directed by Neil Armfield, with the gorgeous Mike McLeish as Keating ("I Am The Man"). Terry Serio is both the Silver Budgie**, and an at first hilarious, then creepingly chilling John Howard ("The Captain of the Mate Ship"). Eddie Perfect killed in fishnets and corset as Alexander Downer singing the lush "I'm Too Freaky". Indeed. The band were tremendous, with keyboardist Enio Pozzebon ably standing in for Gareth Gareth Evans ("Good Heavens Mr Evans"), safari suit and all.

I was dreading the election result which must inevitably end the show, and as McLeish sang the soulful "Light On The Hill" my eyes welled with tears. And then - oh can it be - they gave me a glorious moment, a moment when I could believe that the last eleven years have been just a dream, just a dream.

It's on at the beautiful Comedy Theatre (completed in 1928) and soon at Belvoir Street (just re-opened after extensive renos). See it if you can.

*fancy-schmancy theatre-speak for "there's no talking"
**ex Labor Prime Minister Bob Hawke

Trachemys scripta

In Hamburg there is a park. In the park there is a lake. On that lake there is a raft. On that raft there live some terrapins. Their name is Gelbwangen-Schmuckschildkroete.

Time's winged chariot

Our neighbour died in her bed on Friday. She was found yesterday. Police Rescue opened the door with a crowbar.


Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

bunnies

Ceramic bunnies from the Islamic Art wing of the Louvre. Happy Festival of Fecundity (incorporating Massive Eating of Chocolate) to you all.