Show Me The Treasure

One wonders just what witty banter might come with coat, a frock or blouse from the Pun Shop, in the Old Quarter in Hanoi. I am not quite sure but it seems like those are plastic palms gracing ( or would that be dis-gracing) the elegant first floor balcony.

My siingle pun in Vietnam,  based on the practice of standing around talking and eating roast watermelon seeds during Tet, the Vietnamese New Year, was ah, so that is called Tet a Tet. This fell so completely flat, was so inexplicable, that I am not surprised to find that the locals must buy puns from shops, though what they do with them later is a mystery.

One wonders just what witty banter might come with coat, a frock or blouse from the Pun Shop, in the Old Quarter in Hanoi. I am not quite...

The colonnaded verandah, if so humble a word as verandah might be applied even to part of the entirely overwhelming wonder of architecture, sculpture , mythology and history that is Angkor Watt, is a perfect eaxample of the nearly dissappearing point of perspective.
Of those places for which a dozen visits would not be enough, Angkor Watt and the surrounding temples and  barays is now on the top of my list.

The colonnaded verandah, if so humble a word as verandah might be applied even to part of the entirely overwhelming wonder of architecture...

 On a bicycle tour from Hoi An, this was one of four bridges, two bamboo, two of wood that we crossed.  This one was owned by three families and the Bridge Man sleepy in a hammock,  waited at the end for the toll. The bridge only slightly more sturdy than its shadow, seemed like an invitation for me and my bicycle to fall into the river, so I wheeled my bike across. At the slower pace one gets to appreciate the aging process for bamboo.

 On a bicycle tour from Hoi An, this was one of four bridges, two bamboo, two of wood that we crossed.  This one was owned by three famil...

Nothing like a ladder for a step up in the word. This group of bamboo beauties for sale in Ladder Lane in the Old Quarter of Hanoi,  come with an option on faux bamboo in leaf.  Are these sold in sets, so the ladders might be disguised and therefore might make a higher order kind of trap for unsuspecting pandas of ambition?

Tempting to buy one but so hard to pack.

Nothing like a ladder for a step up in the word. This group of bamboo beauties for sale in Ladder Lane in the Old Quarter of Hanoi,  c...

Bamboo cages, red silk drapes,
three cold days,
and no birds sing.

Across the road,
roast dog to eat.

Bamboo cages, red silk drapes, three cold days, and no birds sing. Across the road, roast dog to eat.

While language varies from place to place, usually the lay of the land, at least in this geologic epoch is pretty constant. Not so according to this depiction of the globe we found In Ho Chi Minh City  near the Botanic Gardens and Zoo. Is this a clever metaphor for the close post-colonial relationship between Australia and Europe?  A sly literary allusion to Jose Saramago's wonderful satiric novel The Stone Raft,  where not just the Iberian penninsular drifts off from Europe but a much larger part of Europe takes off for warmer climes. 

While language varies from place to place, usually the lay of the land, at least in this geologic epoch is pretty constant. Not so accordi...

Coffee in Vietnam might be the perfect example of going with the flow, going native, getting local, Kurt-erising one's self in both  locale and way of doing things.  The coffee looks a bit, sumpish, those layers, and here in Hoi An, the iced version comes with a side of hot tea,a press metal teaspoon, and in case that hefty dollop of condensed milk does not make your sweet tooth sing, a sachet of sugar. 
The waitresses serving this coffee were quite bemused by this rough sketch, and congregated to discuss  the design on the glass of tea, laughing at the coffee's gradient in the glass. It takes a little getting used to, and for a while I kept trying the espresso, but when  it comes down to UHT milk ( yuk!) verse Condensed (sweet!) , Condensed wins by a teaspoon!

Coffee in Vietnam might be the perfect example of going with the flow, going native, getting local, Kurt-erising one's self in both  l...

It may be that Farmer Bart Brassica has got into the spirit of the season (or vis versa) but for the past week he has been seen sportin...

Heedless of the writing on the wall, Bart stands to stare at this blue Bugatti. Bart's vehicle of choice is the tractor but a racy de-capito sedan has its attractions, especially for those whose hair is unbudge-able by wind.
Bart is pondering whether the number on the side refers to the price or has some obscure numismatic or mathematical connotation, being sub-prime and if this is the kind of car Mr Farmhand might turn up in.  What would Mavis say if he bought it? All of this may be driven by pre-Christmas neurosis, Bart does his best to ignore the festive season for reasons which may shortly come to light.

Heedless of the writing on the wall, Bart stands to stare at this blue Bugatti. Bart's vehicle of choice is the tractor but a racy de...

Can somebody set the table? Silver, something old is best. Fish Forks and knifes, silver tines from other houses, other lives. This set, in pen and wash, might be good only for printed matter, literary bon mots, paper plates and paper napkins. 

Set the Table, the archetypal job of childhood, poner la mesa, is, I hear, going out of fashion, following in the wake of plates of food in separate rooms and TV meals, none of which can rightly be called dinner.
Tonight I've made a Tiramisu, a variant with layers of sabayon - made with creme de cacao, and potent, layered with barely sweetened mascarpone and beaten egg whites ( the kitchen hand says, it's is like chasing clouds) layered in between the coffee-dipped savoiardy, the whole thing dusted down with grated dark chocolate. Thank goodness for dessert spoons.

Can somebody set the table? Silver, something old is best. Fish Forks and knifes, silver tines from other houses, other lives. This set, i...

This is yet another sketchy sketch from my favourite Sydney ramen place Tanpopo, opposite the Oaks in Neutral Bay.  Looking back over the sketches, it would be the kind of distortion of truth that poets are so good at to say they have noticeably improved. It might even be that they have got worse, as here Julian, who is sadly leaving Tanpopo, looks a bit like Clark Kent. Is this the manga influence, or a cryptic reference to his amazing skills of food transformation?

This is yet another sketchy sketch from my favourite Sydney ramen place Tanpopo, opposite the Oaks in Neutral Bay.  Looking back over the...

Last week I read 'The Housekeeper + The Professor' by Yoko Ogawa. If you look closely at the image of the cover I've scanned in - and it is only in writing this that I paid attention to this detail myself - you can see that it was bought at LifeLine . Should I note the coincidence, that the characters in the story each are a lifeline to each other, though, naturally this should be the case in any good novel. The plus sign, instead of the more usual word 'and' or the ampersand '&' on the title page is also telling, Much of the connectivity in Ogawa's novel turns on the surprisingly properties of numbers, how they contain and reflect on each other. The number property that is the central metaphor in the first chapter is so wonderful, that, and perhaps I am a little susceptible to the eloquence of numbers, it bought tears to my eyes.  In case you haven't read it I will not spoil it for you by explaining here.  This is a just about perfect novel for me, understated, rich in mathematical metaphors, with a sense of realisation without any of the obvious tying up of ends that lesser writers resort to end a book. 

My only quibble is I feel slightly guilty that in buying it second hand I have deprived Yoko Ogawa of royalties. Perhaps CAL should consider this problem and create an option to donate royalties for writers?

Last week I read 'The Housekeeper + The Professor' by Yoko Ogawa. If you look closely at the image of the cover I've scanned i...

It has been my fond misperception that clouds were mostly white. Was it all those early puffs of cotton woolliness daubed on the mid-blue skies of that grainy and forgiving art paper handed round in kindergarten? This turning blueness happened last Sunday afternoon, the harder I looked the bluer nearly all of that which was once white seemed.  What will go next? The grass? The stars?

It has been my fond misperception that clouds were mostly white. Was it all those early puffs of cotton woolliness daubed on the mid-bl...

  In a move that suggest something of a psychedelic parterre, an Alice-esque take on bobbles, afghan squares and plain old stripes, these four bollards were all dressed up, knitta-style, and that they had no where to go was no problem at all.

  In a move that suggest something of a psychedelic parterre, an Alice-esque take on bobbles, afghan squares and plain old stripes, these ...

What is dinner but a chance to tell a story?Or at least get one off the ground.  Of these four people all seemed intent on telling it like they would like it to be.  What else can one do?
Drawing-wise, mostly I lament my lack of skill with perspective, colour, shadow, the built environment and witty attention to detail but still it is fun even to get one percent of the scene collected, especially while eating something delicious, notably the grilled Kingfish jaw at Tanpopo.

What is dinner but a chance to tell a story?Or at least get one off the ground.  Of these four people all seemed intent on telling it li...

Bart is fairly glowing with the reflected radiance of this crop of Yellow Onomatopoeic Peppers. Or, more accurately this is how Bart refers to this variety of peppers, having been in something of a quandary of indecision ( a bit like a quarry but much more cramped, according to Frank Winkler, the self-declared local expert on rock breaking), and muttering Red Peppers? Yellow Peppers? Red Peppers? Yellow Peppers? Red Peppers? Yellow Peppers?,  without cease, until the Mr Farmhand, who has taken over the new nursery section in The Whistle Stop Floriste Shoppe ( to be known as The Whistle Stop Floriste Shoppe and Plant Emporium once Mavis Eggwhistle funds a space for the extra words on the front window, said Oh, For Pete's sake, enough with the Onomatopoeia, and plonked  three dozen seedlings down on the counter. Bart is hoping he can interest in Mavis in a short walk in the Peppers before they start to wilt, or succumb to a November frost.

Bart is fairly glowing with the reflected radiance of this crop of Yellow Onomatopoeic Peppers. Or, more accurately this is how Bart refer...

 Finding Knitta style woolens inside a garden? Brilliant! From a little ways off the woollified tree in this Rozelle terrace front garden seemed to have a humdinger crop of over-sized golden oranges. Closer up, they proved to be pom-poms, with an avant-guard striped garter stitch understory. And then there was the catch-all thingy on the budgy cage. This sets an inspiring  standard for serendipity.   More power to the knitting needle.

 Finding Knitta style woolens inside a garden? Brilliant! From a little ways off the woollified tree in this Rozelle terrace front garden ...

Marukami's novel, 1Q84, purchased in Tokyo last year, presents a  challenge, a strange book that gets stranger, it weighs in at close to 1,000 pages. With a theme Marukami comes back to again and again,  adolescents who fall irretrievably in love in High School, separated by circumstance but are always in search of their True Love. Yes, for the modern reader, this is the High Romantic platform mixed with so very weirdly and so well with the gothic fantasy, the uber otherness of multiple realities, that this boy meets girl story has more kinks in it than a packet of ramen. Here we see  Theo racing along the last chapter of the book just before a large a delicious bowl of Hokkaido Ramen arrives. Of course that tell tale yellow wall behind, not to say the name, means this is yet another Episode of Dinner at Tanpopo!

Marukami's novel, 1Q84, purchased in Tokyo last year, presents a  challenge, a strange book that gets stranger, it weighs in at close ...

Last Saturday I joined in what might be a very large dinner party, a picnic fresco y el blanco, a group of devoted foodies, and around 1,500 versions of what to wear when you're wearing white. The first Diner in Blanc in Sydney was picture perfect, as proved by a host of photo snappers both the kind in white, passerbys in their civvies, or the popular pre-Halloween option, fancy dress. The whole thing was glamorously gregarious puzzle for Sydney punters.

Last Saturday I joined in what might be a very large dinner party, a picnic fresco y el blanco, a group of devoted foodies, and around 1,5...

These two broom,  perhaps stilled in mid-sweep from their own bewitched animation, camouflaged by dappled shade, lie on the path beside the Ota  River in Hiroshima. The  twig broom's no fuss technology  has endured millenia, like bread, perhaps because it works. While it would be far-fetched to call it elegant, it has its own endearing aesthetic, a sense of the wild wielding, of giving short shrift, sweeping leaves and litter off their feet.

These two broom,  perhaps stilled in mid-sweep from their own bewitched animation, camouflaged by dappled shade, lie on the path beside th...

And it's not just blues. It's the pinks, yellows and purples.   The idea is terrific and so is the little stick that comes with it but oh la la that rainbow hippy effect is just all too much.Frankly this paper stinks. One good thing about the smell is that it made me seek a better ventilated spot than the very comfy car seat which is my usual view point. The Norfolk Pines are a wonderful subject but I am sorry to say I short-changed this tree and only got the top half in.  The effect is odd echo of the graffiti (below) along the south edge of the skate park.

And it's not just blues. It's the pinks, yellows and purples.   The idea is terrific and so is the little stick that comes with ...

Is there something underhanded here?  Of late Farmer Bart Brassica has aspired to what Mavis Eggwhistle calls 'floral fiascos', trying to out-style a certain local farmhand's recent success as a horticultural pin-up person. Here Bart is aiming for a dramatic Spanish effect, in the style of the Toledo master of the still life, Juan Cotan. How Bart comes to be muttering things about Cotan is a complete mystery to all the folks in Lambertville but some fear he has been browsing Art Catalogues.  This may be due to some confusion on Bart's part who may have believed he was ordering Portraits from the Prairie, when due to an intermittent dyslexia, he ordered Portraits from the Prado. 

Is there something underhanded here?  Of late Farmer Bart Brassica has aspired to what Mavis Eggwhistle calls 'floral fiascos', tr...

While there are the obvious pleasure of surf beaches, many visitors  miss what is one of the great contemplative treasures of the Australian east coast, the rocky beach headlands with their natural intertidal rock pools.  The rock pool is a world in microcosm, a glinting and glorious brilliant home to to dozens of small animals such as anemones, periwinkles, barnacles, crabs as well a intricate algae species, and sometimes, as you can see here emerald green sea grass. Rock pools are best viewed around somewhere half way between high and low tide. (Check the Tide Time Table at  http://www.maritime.nsw.gov.au/docs/Tide_Tables.pdf).

One of the easy places to see rock pools is the northern rock platform at Balmoral Beach . To get there take the Taronga Zoo Ferry from Circular Quay ( this takes about 20 minutes), if you're up a for walk along the foreshore of Sydney National Park,  talk the path to the right as you leave Taronga Ferry Wharf , heading north-east and you'll find the path which is well signed. Keep going around Bradley's Head, around  Clifton Gardens Park, through Chowder Bay,  where you can stop at either the Baccino  kiosk right at the water's edge for a coffee or cold drink, or at the Baccino Cafe which is up the stairs a little further. If you don't feel like walking take the 238 bus from the ferry bus stop and get off at Balmoral Beach,  just at the end of Raglan Street is probably the best spot.

You can take the Chowder Bay Road, which make a longish loop past the Sydney Institute of Marine Science,  up the hill turning left into  Middle Head Road, till you ge to the stairs down to Balmoral Oval.  There is also a path just to the left of Baccino Cafe with  stairs that go up and over the hill to the meet up with the Balmoral stairs.  Down the stairs, take the path around the oval to Balmoral Esplanade. You can find a detailed map of this walk and other maps of Mosman at http://www.mosman.nsw.gov.au/mosman/place/maps.

  If the weather is warm the beach is a peaceful place to swim, and on weekdays is not at all crowded.  There are quite a few casual cafes with great coffee, like the Boatshed Cafe, if you're need lunch.  Walk north along the beach, past the bus shed (remember this for the return trip!), past the small island connected by a curved bridge, past Bathers Pavilion (also a great place for lunch and the menu is posted near the front door ) and then along the beach, past the man-made 'babies pool) till you get to the rocks.

Some kind of light sandshoe is best for walking on the rock platform. This rock platform goes all the way around to Chinaman's Beach but this is quite a challenging work and you will find many wonderful rock pools just past the point. Don't take anything, shells or seaweed from the pools, as this is prohibited, some creatures, such as the Blue-Ringed Octopus are poisonous, so as general rule don't pick up sea creatures. 

Once you've had enough in your rock pool viewing you can catch the bus back to the city from the bus shed.  For an interesting and free bus ride around the district, you can do a circuit on the free Mosman Rider bus which runs every half an hour, there are bus stops for just next to Awaba Cafe on the corner of  Awaba Street and the Esplanade.  You can find information on all the ferry, bus and the free Mosman bus at  http://www.mosman.nsw.gov.au/mosman/transport/public-transport.

While there are the obvious pleasure of surf beaches, many visitors  miss what is one of the great contemplative treasures of the Austral...

OK, so on our previous visit to Tanpopo, Julius, one of the chefs, sent out a complimentary and  incredibly delicious  bowl of tempura for us. We had never ordered the tempura before and perhaps he knew this.  So  last night I ordered tempura, and set to to sketch what was on the table before it arrived.It might be that we look starved, or perhaps, and more likely the opposite, but Julius sends us out a delicious green salad topped with some extremely tender thin slices slow braised of waygu beef.  Then a simply enormous dish of tempura arrives, as well as the Grilled salmon, which the waiter Ellie tells us is a half portion, though it is plainly not. Theo is having ramen but kindly helps out with the tempura (here you see an inexact drawing of his hand and skeric of the New Scientist). When we finally get through our food, and get the bill, we see they have tried to undercharge us, and have to hide extra money under the bill and run out quickly so we can't get be pressured to take back any money. All the staff seem pretty happy about this undercharging joke. This is seeming more and more like a surreal film by Goddard.

OK, so on our previous visit to Tanpopo, Julius, one of the chefs, sent out a complimentary and  incredibly delicious  bowl of tempura for...

This line up of inks, brings with it the question what might be the collective noun for inks. A Writ of Inks, a Well of Inks, a Rorsasch of Inks, a Sink of Inks? If they are lined up do they become a Cortege or a Procession, if they circle are they a Proscenium or an Arch,  if they huddle are they a Muddle, and if they keel over, collectively, are they a Spilt?

This line up of inks, brings with it the question what might be the collective noun for inks. A Writ of Inks, a Well of Inks, a Rorsasch ...

Ok, so what is the conceptual link between the street art in Newtown and the new play by Alana  Valentine which has just premiered at the King Street Theatre In Newtown?  Something about the creation of roles and personas, the two characters busy creating a third, the omniscient 'eye' being all us theatre-goers sitting in the dark?  It is a very funny play about Lola Montez and female desire, about being tough and being open-hearted and balancing the two, with terrific performances by Zoe Carrides and Michael Walley.  Go and see it while it's still on.

Ok, so what is the conceptual link between the street art in Newtown and the new play by Alana  Valentine which has just premiered at the ...

The messy sketchiness of Friday's drawing shows I am spending more time eating and less time drawing,  This week ended up with two visits to Tanpopo in Cremorne  once on Friday for ramen and on Sunday for grilled king fish and their very good pork belly. We have reached a miraculous point at Tanpopo where the chef sends out special dishes for us to try, some slow braised waygu beef and ginger, a little dish of king fish tempura and a croquette of slightly fermented soy beans but last night we hit the jackpot and got a large dish of tempura, with gloriously fresh bean curd, eggplant, zucchini and chicken hiding an intense and delicious broth, the whole crunchy, soupy construction zingy with rounds of green shallots that played a bit of trick with the green pattern on the bowl. We usually never order tempura but now we are converted.

And what better place than Tanpopo to try out the new Manga mera app on my phone!

The messy sketchiness of Friday's drawing shows I am spending more time eating and less time drawing,  This week ended up with two vis...

Is this large sign a just too honest statement about the dimensional challenges of this advertised hotel room? Or does it refer to the act of poking, of course by which I mean the metaphorical act of not minding one's own business. In any case the room, small or not, is ephemeral and perhaps, in any case, you'd like something a bit bigger?

Is this large sign a just too honest statement about the dimensional challenges of this advertised hotel room? Or does it refer to the act...

The signal box, beloved 3-D substrate of the street artist, has been pre-hit up up in Brisbane, leaving both its functionality as a reference point about failed signals and adding local colour. This arty one perhaps is a reference to Alex Harvey's song, Framed? Perhaps not, but still there is an argument that those rollers are a sly nod to Harvey's rolling rrrrr's.

The signal box, beloved 3-D substrate of the street artist, has been pre-hit up up in Brisbane, leaving both its functionality as a refere...

Visiting Brisbane, while there funky shops, wonderful restaurants, stacks of groovy coffee spots, galleries and miles of river to glide ...

We were warned that the alpacas were not exactly reliable as to their manners but this one, with his fashion shot perfect focus on the middle distance looks too pretty to spit. There is a snow-slope groomedness to the just shorn fleece that is reminiscent of a chenille bedspread.  

This fellow was at the Alpaca Farm in Broke, in the Hunter, and will make a cameo appearance in a poem about lunch at Whispering Brook Winery, which is just done the road.

We were warned that the alpacas were not exactly reliable as to their manners but this one, with his fashion shot perfect focus on the mi...

Ever since Frank Winkler heard the rumour that Mr Farmhand had been paid for modelling work by an English gardening magazine, (see A Turnip for the Books) Frank has loitering in various picturesque places and gesticulating madly to get folks to take his picture. The trouble is that, for photographic purposes, Frank is an over-gesticulator, and because of that run-in toasting marshmallows on his hoe (see Rhubartive Moments in Field Work),  his gardening implement is not in any way attractive.  Consequently, some folks have been shouting at him to Get That Hoe Down!, which Frank in is select way of hearing takes as an invitation to party, which as we see here has spurred him on to something of wild dance in the dahlias. Luckily Mr George Loreto was able to take this snap of Frank with his back turned, to avoid Frank sending George a bill for his modeling fee.

Ever since Frank Winkler heard the rumour that Mr Farmhand had been paid for modelling work by an English gardening magazine, (see A Turn...

Sunday morning, it seems nearly too prosaic to put in the edge of brown red roof tiles, when the horizon so completely trumps it as the ascendant horizontal line. But the roof's regularity and pattern  seem remind one that the the upside of repetition is pattern. Off in the distance the headland, a part of Bouddi seems unassailable, a constant stone watcher of water. Copacabana, despite the echo of  frenzy in all those o's and a's, remains a sleepy hollow, with enough sky and water to keep you wondering.

Sunday morning, it seems nearly too prosaic to put in the edge of brown red roof tiles, when the horizon so completely trumps it as the as...

Well, back at Tanpopo for dinner. This place now feels pretty well like home, except that wonderfully we get excellent Japanese food, that I neither to shop or cook, and nobody asks us into the kitchen to clean up. Last night it was the vegetable gyoza, then grilled King Fish jaw, surely the best cut of fish, with its convoluted anatomy so the firm white flesh is bone-sweet, with a slightly salty crisp skin , and a dish of pork belly, any fat long melted off, in a sweet gingerish soy based sauce with great dabs of mustard on the side and stack of perfectly braised boy choy, along a with the green salad tempts me away from ramen. As a special treat the chef gave us some seared tuna sashimi, with grated ginger and lemon, merely because we are regulars! Before the food came I did this quick sketch of Mr T, working hard on a jumpy jumpy game app.  The sketch is holga-ised, which may be good thing, as I had an ink pen, one pink pencil and one purple pencil, so the colours were, hmm, well, not working. 

Well, back at Tanpopo for dinner. This place now feels pretty well like home, except that wonderfully we get excellent Japanese food, tha...

After a warm-up exercise of candying cumquats on Saturday morning I set out  to glace slices of blood orange, starting out with the syrup leftover from the cumquats and gradually adding more sugar to supersaturate the oranges. After quite some time, perhaps an hour, time on Saturday morning is not the bustling weekday time that gets measured in minutes, I removed them to a tray and put them to dry at 100C with the oven fan on, turning them over now and then. They are now a kind of kitchen treasure, ostensibly waiting to be used in a fruit cake or fancy cheese plate, or perhaps dipped in dark chocolate to go with coffee, but they are far too easy just to eat, surreptitiously after duly admiring the glace spokes.

After a warm-up exercise of candying cumquats on Saturday morning I set out  to glace slices of blood orange, starting out with the sy...

It might be hard to find a roof line trickier, in its intersections, angles and general about-faces than the  Crows Nest Community Centre. It suggests a maths theorem that is yet to be proved. The drawing here, scribbled in while having a coffee at Bean Drinking - on the south side of Crows Nest square, goes, well pear-shaped would be the wrong metaphor,  let's say, Straw House Blown Over By a Wolf Shape below the first roof line. This means I need more practice and will have to go back and spend more time drinking Bean Drinking's marvellous coffee. 

It might be hard to find a roof line trickier, in its intersections, angles and general about-faces than the  Crows Nest Community Centre....

There are days when Mavis Eggwhistle, literally, lives under a dark cloud. Some might be tempted to call it despair but it seems this particularly black cloud came out of her oven when she accidentally left it on for a day or two  when she was trying to cook ornamental candied yams in anticipation of Turkey Day.  There is no denying that Mavis was mighty annoyed when the fire brigade arrived and said various quasi-negative things - which did nothing to dispel this black  blot on the Eggwhistlean atmosphere. Bart Brassica mumbled something about how the Carboniferous was his favourite cuisine but Mavis still isn't speaking to him, despite the very lovely autumn weather in Lambertville.

There are days when Mavis Eggwhistle, literally, lives under a dark cloud. Some might be tempted to call it despair but it seems this part...

Years ago there was a radio show called Adventures in Good Music, which I enjoyed. Now there is Adventure Time, which, while I am not in any way a zealot, I must be a fan.  So, someone in my house says he is planning on a going to a Year 11 Informal Character Party as Finn and can we /I convert the very elegant woven backpack to one just like Finn's? So, I study Finn's, noting the two-tone straps, the two-tone body, its stretchy nature, and the green cover flap.
So, I find fabric and sew, also I velcro.  A vestigial memory of the various uses of bias binding inspires me, so the back straps are a wrap!  Theo sews on the final detail, that telling button. One of my very first friends was, in part, cartoon, so now this looks just right.
I am not sure if I've  over spent on time on this, but right now, I am more inclined to consider it might be an investment.

Years ago there was a radio show called Adventures in Good Music, which I enjoyed. Now there is Adventure Time, which, while I am not in a...

In what amounts to a brilliant fiat, as Bart Brassica himself has been telling Mavis E, he  has managed to lure his shadow back by placing this extra large strawberry on his head.  It is unclear why shadows find strawberries so alluring or how the idea came to Bart in the first place, but as you can see there is his shadow or a reasonable facsimile of it.  How this will work out as a permanent arrangement has Granny Egg a little flummoxed .  She expects if the  current high temperatures continues,  the mercury in Lambertville today hitting 86 degrees Foreign Height, as Granny has it, Bart may find himself in something of a jam.

In what amounts to a brilliant fiat, as Bart Brassica himself has been telling Mavis E, he  has managed to lure his shadow back by placing...

 Like the message, 'Drink Me' that Alice finds, the Opera House seems to be loaded, by dint of those vast arcs, shining heroic whites, the complex intersect of curves and sky, to be saying Draw Me. For me this is nearly an act of arrogance, a devil-may-care lack of respect, tackling a subject which is beyond what I can render with any verisimilitude. So, why not I thought? In general buildings get the better of me, it is like perspective has given me the cold shoulder. Mercifully the Opera House is all hips with nary a shoulder in sight.  The new cafe terrace on the top floor of the MCA gives a good view but Wharf 4 lookout point (above) seems to be the optimal distance.

   Like the message, 'Drink Me' that Alice finds, the Opera House seems to be loaded, by dint of those vast arcs, shining ...

More than experimental, this is touch and go, or at least the hat is. Better make that gone.

More than experimental, this is touch and go, or at least the hat is. Better make that gone.

Why do things aggregate?  I found this half-formed tumbrel of things that float by the edge of Manly Lagoon, walking back to Keirle Park. The longer sticks seem to form, well sticking points, while the smaller leaf litter makes knotty cross-overs . Is this the way star dust might accumulate. I expected this clump to have more rubbish but there is not such a lot of it.  Hazarding a guess, the green seeds might be mangrove babies out to find a place in the world?

Why do things aggregate?  I found this half-formed tumbrel of things that float by the edge of Manly Lagoon, walking back to Keirle Park. ...