|And on the pedestal these words appear:|
'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Some short-comings I acknowledge, but all-in-all, I am so glad we had him.
Wednesday, 22 October 2014
Tuesday, 21 October 2014
|My grand-daughter often finds it a chore to get through dinner-time, even though thirty minutes earlier she had been starving and really, really needed a peanut-butter 'n' honey Sao. So, my daughter has introduced "Question Time". Tonight, Alannah asked, "How do you make glass?"|
Mama opined that somehow sand was involved. Papa phoned his friend, Mr Google. The child was satisfied with the explanation that a part of sand was heated so very, very hot that it melted.
This sand is on Clontarf Reserve beach, but not protected by the shark enclosure. Being a calm, harbour beach, there are not many shells. There was an array of beach ephemera though, sufficient to engross this photographer.
Monday, 20 October 2014
|The design engineer could probably see his dream in his imagination, but like many things in life, had trouble getting the vision to flow out the tips of his fingers. Perhaps it is simply a chap being held at gunpoint with a penny-bunger shoved in his mouth. Perhaps it is the last resting place of a fez afficionado. Perhaps it is a concept drawing for Escher's "Waterfall". |
One of the saving graces of the seaside, is that stunted genius lasts until the next tide.
Sunday, 19 October 2014
|Having achieved our aim of arriving early, the beach, although not deserted, was quiet. The Spring sun was above the ridge, but still low enough to cast a long, clear shadow. The sea-weed had hung there for many a day so, although wet, was not moist. It was shrivelled and taut, with a pungent smell. Looking more like reinforcing bars for a concrete slab, than shark-proof netting, the enclosure provides security, even though a Wobbegong could easily slither through.|
Friday, 17 October 2014
|On Fridays, I walk over to High Strret shops. I enjoy the shops: the people are more like me, than the, probably, equally lovely people who frequent the Castlecrag shops. There is a myriad of ways I can mooch to my destination, and I am working my way through the variety. I nearly always, however, walk through, or around Willoughby Park. It was relatively quiet today, but the sky could account for that. There is a concrete path around the playing fields, which accommodates cyclists, scooter(ists), skate-boarders, walkers, and walkers with a leashed friend.|
|On the outside of the pathway - in the "corners" of the park - are: cricket nets, enclosed playgrounds for young children, a pre-school, a rotunda, and a community hall. There are picnic tables galore, and a couple of coin-operated BBQs. It is a lovely, friendly, family place to be. As I wobble along the path, nearly everyone returns my smile.|