Luna Park

Lately, life has been a bit of a .... well, you know ...





At least I know where to stick my coin.

what Barbie set out for my birthday

Any port in a storm.





Say cheese.

Pennsylvania turtle

There's nothing like looking into a Pennsylvanian stream and spotting a discarded rubber glove (inflated & tied off at the wrist) and spluttering about vandals who desecrate beautiful sylvan countrysides and then getting closer and finding it's a Pennsylvania turtle floating in the stream taking in the day at his leisure.

[And, yes, he is alive. He is keeping himself in place by gently waving alternate front legs.]

{This image is now Nuala Fury's screen saver. Little turtle goes a long way.}

birdbath

I see you there.



None for you.

two heads better

Here we are in sylvan Pennsylvania.





Here we are back in Centennial Park in Sydney.

So you see, my friends, they follow me across the globe.

how green was my valley

A glorious Spring day in New Hope (the county, not the Star Wars movie). Nuala Fury, Edgar Allen Joe, Our Man Flynn, and Agatha Christie all share the rent on a wonderful country home where we spent some marvelous days in Pennsylvania. It is indeed sylvan. And I saw a ground hog and some tree toads. And some poison ivy. Ooo aah. Also some avifauna, to be revealed in a later post.

imbroglio

When asked, the Gucci Mama said she would have no hesitation in allowing Bill Henson to photograph her eight-year-old son (seen above, photographed by me, New Year's Eve 2007). And this is the woman who won't allow photographs of children in underwear in the catalogues of the retail giant she runs. Even thinking twice about toddlers in swimsuits.

What is happening in my country? I leave it alone for ten days, and it gets itself into trouble. More here.

If you are unfamiliar with Bill Henson's work, putting his name into google images will give you a quick overview.

Let's hear the man himself on the subject: Henson told the Herald "there is always something being boiled up. George Steiner once said that the media's only job is to create and maintain a state of emergency. About what," he added, laughing, "it doesn't matter."

My own 'thoughts' are rather feelings. Anger, outrage, revolt. And, horribly, dismay. I have made no secret of my pash on Kevin Rudd, our Prime Minister. I knew in my heart that the honeymoon would not last. But I didn't think it would end quite so soon. And in such a distressing way.

Take a little mind balm from Annabel Crabb for soothment.

I only wish that this incident had somehow involved chanteuse Natalie Imbruglia so I could have entitled this post Imbruglia Imbroglio.

I am still jetlagged. But then again, I have been mainlining sugar all morning.