Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

In which Wordsworm explores the importance of horror, gore and pumpkins in the American psyche and discovers that there’s a lot to blame the Irish for.

Me and the TC have just got back from California, USA. We drove from San Francisco to LA, through a countryside in the throes of pre-Halloween pumpkinitis. We hit Hollywood just in time to catch the Halloween Horror Night at Universal Studios.

My impressions? To paraphrase Obelix, “These Californians are crazy”. To pacify the TC I’ll add, “But in a good way”.

Travel tip

Don’t turn around. The zombie behind you just may be Irish.

Recommended restaurant

The Hard Rock Café on Universal Citywalk, Hollywood. Good food, bluesy atmosphere, dangling car and wall-hung rock memorabilia. No obvious Irishmen.

The book I’m in

Still Life with Woodpecker, by Tom Robbins. This worm finds the content contrived but passably amusing. From the cover blurb: “[This book] reveals the purpose of the moon… examines the conflict between social activism and romantic individualism… It also deals with the problem of redheads.”

The photos

Me, Peg and the Great Pumpkin. Hey Linus, I found it:

Halloween, horror and pumpkins in California

It was the week before Halloween when we drove down the Californian coast. Pumpkin patches littered the countryside. What is it with pumpkins, ghosts and the American psyche? This worm has done a bit of research. It’s said that the Irish brought the tradition of Halloween and jack o’lanterns with them to the States. Originally, jack o’lanterns were made from the humble turnip. There’s a confused story of a drunken Irish farmer called Jack who couldn’t get in to heaven or hell, so he had to stagger around purgatory for ever after. To light his way, he hacked a hole in a turnip and put a burning coal into it to form a lantern. For some reason best known to themselves, the other villagers decided that if they made their own turnip lanterns, this would scare away Jack and similar undesirables. Well, they were Irish of course.

When the settlers came to the States and discovered the magnificent pumpkins in their new land, they started using pumpkins instead of turnips to make their jack o’lanterns.

This is the picturesque Webb Ranch Pumpkin Patch near Palo Alto:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Not all pumpkins are the same, you know. Only the very best will become worthy jack o’lanterns, fit to ward off the Halloween witches and spirits. When you see one you like, hang on to it with all your might:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Night falls. Mist rises. The Hollywood streets undergo a frightening metamorphosis. Chainsaws thrum. Screams chill the bones. Bones clatter over the screams. It’s Universal Studios Halloween Horror Night:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Oh, for the comforting glow of a pumpkin now:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

If you scream, you’re fair game:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

There’s no escape:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

They’re everywhere:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Some poor souls didn’t make it:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

This guy should have tried a pumpkin as a coach:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Dude, you’re just tall:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

The only one who could ever reach me was the son of a preacher man:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

But day dawns, justice overcomes and pumpkins prevail. Me and a panel from the door of the Santa Barbara Courthouse:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Actually, pumpkins don’t have it all their own way. Me with a soon-to-be-extinct slice of pumpkin pie:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Oh-Oh, spaghetti-o. Linus, I fear the TC ate the Great Pumpkin.

That’s all for today dudes.

Gum Wall in Seattle

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

Me and the TC are in Seattle. Where it rains. She’s here for the WritersUA conference, four days of technical writer’s heaven.

Undaunted by the dismal drizzle and the icy wind, the TC set off for a grand tour of the city. She wandered down Post Alley and spotted the Seattle Wall of Gum.

Would you believe that she stuck me to it? So humiliating. Take a look at the snap below and commiserate with me. Don’t laugh!

Travel tip

Chew every mouthful 32 times. “Nature will castigate those who don’t masticate,” said Horace Fletcher the great.

The book I’m in

Bones, by Jonathan Kellerman.

This dude always manages to set your teeth on edge from the very first bite.

The photos

Me affixed inelegantly to the Seattle Gum Wall:

Gum Wall in Seattle

Here’s another view of the glorious gum:

Gum Wall in Seattle

The TC did not have any gum, so she donated a half-chewed Mentos that had kept me company in her bag all the way from Australia.

The story is that the gum started appearing on the wall way back in the early 1990s. People standing in line for the Market Theatre used the wall as a place to leave their gum:

Gum Wall in Seattle

As an aside, I have to inform you that the TC noticed with glee the spelling of “THEATRE” in the sign above. One down for American spelling! As another aside, I have to apologise for the TC. She’s a technical writer.

The Gum Wall, a.k.a the Great Wall of Gum, is in Post Alley at the Pike Place Market. Here’s a view from the skyway over the alley, with the sticky stuff on the left:

Gum Wall in Seattle

Here’s the other end of Post Alley, looking altogether less hard-bitten:

Gum Wall in Seattle

That’s all for today dudes.

Fortune cookies and frescoes in San Francisco

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

A few days ago, me and the TC climbed up to Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill and saw the frescoes on the walls of the tower.

Later the same day, we had tea at the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. This little restaurant introduced fortune cookies to the United States. There’s even a claim that fortune cookies were invented by Makoto Hagiwara, caretaker of the Japanese Tea Garden in San Francisco.

The fortune cookies and the frescoes are at opposite ends of town, so why write about them in one blog post? Purely for the sake of the alliteration. I could claim a philosophical juxtaposition of commerce and art, or of kitch and realism. But no, it’s the allure of the alliteration. That’s assonance, man.

Travel tip

Treat yourself to a chocolate. If you’ve never had a Hershie Bar, they’re worth trying.

The book I’m in

Managing Writers, A Real World Guide to Managing Technical Documentation, by Richard L. Hamilton.

This bookworm is munching on the feast of quotable bits in this book. Here’s an appetiser from the section on “The Elements of Technical Writing”:

“Schedules are the closest thing to a ‘black art’ that you are likely to deal with as a documentation manager. The good news is that as a documentation manager, you will rarely set schedules; the bad news is that you will rarely set schedules.”

Tantalising? The explanation’s in the book.

The photos

Me with a fortune cookie in the Japanese Tea Garden, San Francisco:

Fortune cookies and frescoes in San Francisco

My fortune cookie says “You are next in line for promotion in your firm”. Look out, all worms, here I come!

Did you know that the origin of the fortune cookie is in some dispute? Some claim that Makoto Hagiwara, caretaker of the Japanese Tea Garden, created them. Others say that they were invented in Japan but the Tea Garden introduced fortune cookies into the United States:

Fortune cookies and frescoes in San Francisco

Hopping over to the frescoes, here’s part of a wall inside Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill, San Francisco:

Fortune cookies and frescoes in San Francisco

Coit Tower was built in 1933 with money donated by Lillie Hitchcock Coit. Artists painted the frescoes and were paid as part of the Federal Government’s New Deal to help artists during the Great Depression.

Beautiful, huh? Yes, but take a closer look:

Fortune cookies and frescoes in San Francisco

The grimmer side of life is there in the painting too. A man has been run over by a car. Also, look closely in the first picture and you’ll see that someone is picking the pocket of the man in a white coat checking his watch.

Worried about imminent invasion by E.T. and his buddies? No need. The UFO Response Team is out in force, spotted here at the top of Haight near Golden Gate Park:

Fortune cookies and frescoes in San Francisco

And so it’s farewell to fair San Francisco. (Can’t resist that alliteration today.) Here’s me on Baker Beach with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background:

Fortune cookies and frescoes in San Francisco

Me and the TC are off to Seattle. Where it rains.

That’s all for today dudes.

Cable cars in San Francisco

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

Me and the TC took a trip on a San Francisco cable car. That was the most fun you can have outside a book!

We’ve also ventured onto buses and trams and various other forms of transport. You know what? Everyone chats to everyone in San Francisco.

My impressions? Public transport reveals San Francisco as a friendly city full of cheerful, or if not cheerful then vociferously expressive, people.

Even the gripman on the cable car had a big smile for the TC. Check out the photograph below. Gripmen are a fascinating breed.

Travel tip

Not only do the Americans drive on the wrong side of the road, their light switches are all wrong too: Push up to switch on the light. (This is an especially useful tip when it’s dark. And after all, that’s usually when you’re trying to turn on the light.)

Another tip: City blocks in San Francisco are long. Don’t try to walk too many of them.

Recommended restaurant

Zazie, a French bistro in Cole Valley. The food is divine. The TC had braised steak Marseillaise. It was so tender it fell apart at the touch of a fork.

The book I’m in

Managing Writers, A Real World Guide to Managing Technical Documentation, by Richard L. Hamilton.

A very well organised book with plenty of information for a bookworm to get his teeth into.

The photos

Me on the Powell & Mason Streets cable car:

Cable cars in San Francisco

Did you think “cable car” meant a car that hangs from an overhead cable? The TC did, bless her cotton socks. So she was surprised to see something that looks more like an ornate tram:

Cable cars in San Francisco

The cable runs underground. It’s a set of steel strands wrapped around a rope core. The cable moves at a speed of about 15km per hour. The car grabs onto the cable and is pulled along the track. When it reaches the end of the track, the car runs onto a turntable:

Cable cars in San Francisco

Now people have to turn it around by hand so that it can go in the other direction:

Cable cars in San Francisco

The star of the show is the gripman. This is a highly skilled and physically superior being. The competition to become a gripman is strong and the training is harsh. This bookworm has read somewhere that only 30 percent of trainees pass the course. Undaunted to find herself in such illustrious company, the TC smiled at our gripman. Just look at the smile she got in response:

Cable cars in San Francisco

Behind the gripman you can see the impressive array of levers he has to manipulate. He is the dude who makes the car grab or release the cable. He also has to judge the gaps across intersections, where the cable does not run. And he has to watch out for unaware motorists and pedestrians and other mere mortals who don’t know just how out-of-control a cable car can be.

Here’s a closer look at the levers and handles:

Cable cars in San Francisco

Want to go for a ride on a San Francisco cable car? Try these videos:

Here’s the gripman dude in action:

Do you have a head for heights? Here’s a very short video of the cable car starting at the top of a steep hill:

The trams in SF are special too. Some of them are heritage models, and some are even imported from other cities around the world. Here’s a golden oldie from Milan, that we spotted in Market Street:

Cable cars in San Francisco

Even the buses in SF have something to say for themselves. Many of them are powered by overhead cables. This can get a bit ugly at intersections:

Cable cars in San Francisco

But hey, it means the buses can have “Zero Emissions Vehicle” proudly emblazoned on their sides:

Cable cars in San Francisco

Bus seats are roomy, unlike in Sydney where the TC can be heard to complain that other passengers sit on her rather than next to her. This worm is feeling magnanimous today, so here’s another tip. (This is the third one in a single blog post. Feel privileged!) To request a stop, you pull the cable that runs along above the windows. It’s not an emergency cord.

That’s all for today dudes.

World Famous Bushman in San Francisco

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

Me and the TC have been in San Francisco for a couple of days now. Yesterday we encountered the World Famous Bushman. When he’s not lurking behind a bush, he goes by the name of David Johnson.

My impressions? This Bushman dude knows where it’s at. Dollars roll in.

Photos and a video below.

Travel tip

Oscar Wilde is said to have said, “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.” It’s neither summer nor winter here right now, but it is cold. And very windy. I tremble in trepidation whenever the TC waves me around in search of the perfect photographic pose. If you happen to spot me blowing willy-nilly through the Californian streets, please catch me and put me into a good book.

Recommended restaurant

On the Bridge restaurant in Japan Town presents food yoshoku style. That’s western food but with a Japanese influence, as eaten by the people of Japan. The restaurant itself is energetic and cheerful in yellow and green with touches of pink, orange and blue. Garfield and other more cuddly toys watch over you as you eat. Anime rules. “Beware the attack chef.”

The book I’m in

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson.

Yep, still the same book. The TC has not had much time for reading recently. This makes for a restful life for me, except when I’m hauled out for the occasional celebrity photo shoot.

The photos

Peg has been making a perfect pest of herself over the last couple of days, because she wants everyone to know she’s here too. So, to pacify Peg, here’s me and Peg perched on the TC’s pouch:

World Famous Bushman in San Francisco

Now that’s Peg out of the way, let’s move on to the World Famous Bushman. Your typical tourist does not even notice this bush:

World Famous Bushman in San Francisco

Yikes, lookee here — the horror, the horror:

World Famous Bushman in San Francisco

The World Famous Bushman skulks behind his branches on Fisherman’s Wharf. Every now and then, he leaps out and scares the unsuspecting passers-by. Funnily enough, they don’t even notice the circle of other tourists around the Bushman, waiting with drawn cameras to film the scare.

Would you believe that the TC paid him $5 for a photograph and a gag? From the comfort of my book buried in her bag, I heard her engage him in conversation. Uh-oh, thinks me, here we go. He asked her where she came from.

“South Africa.”

“Oh,” says the World Famous Bushman, “then you know what a real bushman is!”

That’s when she handed over the $5. Bushman dude, you rock!

Here’s a short video of the Bushman in action:

While we’re in the area, here’s a picture of Alcatraz taken from Fisherman’s Wharf just behind the Bushman:

World Famous Bushman in San Francisco

We had a good view of the Golden Gate Bridge from the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, also near Fisherman’s Wharf:

World Famous Bushman in San Francisco

That’s all for today dudes.

Arriving in San Francisco

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

Me and the TC have arrived in San Francisco, on the first leg of our two-city American tour.

My impressions? Space, light, beauty, calm. But don’t despair, adventure lurks just below the surface.

As we touched down at San Francisco at the end of our 14-hour flight from Sydney, the pilot announced that we were perfectly safe, everything was normal. He went on to tell us that we were perfectly safe and everything was completely normal. They had had to switch off the port engine, but it was a completely safe, normal procedure which happened sometimes in flying. So we should not worry about the fire engine appearing at our side, nor the fact that we had stopped some distance from the terminal in case we might set it on fire. It was a perfectly normal… You get the gist.

The TC was not terribly concerned, since we had already landed. But she did Google our plane as soon as Googling was possible, to see how many engines a Boeing 747-400 has. The answer is four. So we probably were perfectly safe.

The adventure continues…

Travel tip

Count the number of engines on your plane before you set off. Even better, count the number of working engines.

Recommended restaurant

Juban restaurant in the Kinokuniya building. It’s a Japanese restaurant in the heart of Japan Center, where you grill your own food over a flame. This is a good place to find fresh vegetables. The TC is fond of her greens.

The book I’m in

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson.

A good read. This worm is glad there’s a sequel I can bury myself in next. Books are safe, normal and cosy places to be when travelling.

The photos

Me at the Crowbar on east Broadway — please excuse my less-than-sharp appearance, but it’s perhaps not unsuited to the general feel of the neighbourhood:

Arriving in San Francisco

Here’s more of Broadway. Across the road from the Crowbar a variety of delights are on offer, including “ShowGirls” and “Naughty Laundry”. The TC wandered into this area by mistake, as is her wont. I don’t think she would have chosen it for a stroll:

Arriving in San Francisco

Me and the TC arrived at the Embarcadero in the middle of an anti-war demonstration. This is Saturday 21 March, our first day in San Francisco. Demonstrators were demanding the freedom of Palestine and Gaza and an end to the war in Iraq, no war in Iran, and basically just “no war”. This video shows some of the crowd setting out and the SFPD following on motorbikes:

Later we heard on the news that there were a couple of scuffles with police and eight people were arrested. But we just saw some concerned citizens. Here’s the statue “La Chiffoniere” by Jean Dubuffet, with demonstrators including a masked demonstrator in front of the statue:

Arriving in San Francisco

The SFPD arrived on foot, on bicycles and on motor bikes. They were a sturdy bunch, but smiled and chatted to the crowd while waiting to set off. Here are some of them:

Arriving in San Francisco

Here’s one of the demonstrators who opted for a colourful display rather than joining the march. This worm approves of the orange-coated dog:

Arriving in San Francisco

To finish off, here’s a San Francisco cityscape. It’s a view from Telegraph Hill, taken from the climb up to Coit Tower:

Arriving in San Francisco

San Francisco is a beautiful city. I’ll blog about it some more soon!

That’s all for today dudes.

Shelly Beach in Manly

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

There’s a heat wave on in Sydney, Australia. If you like the heat, this is where you should be. Weather reports say we’re the hottest place on the planet this weekend.

This is when all savvy Sidney-siders hit the beaches. Shelly Beach is one of the best. It’s all happening: scuba-diving, snorkelling, swimming, paddling, stand-up and sit-down canoeing, splashing or just plain lying around.

Shelly Beach is part of the Cabbage Tree Bay reserve, at the quiet end of Manly Beach. Unlike the rest of the Sydney ocean coast, Shelly Beach points north rather than east. It’s tucked away in a little fold of the coast and has a character all its own.

Travel tip

Stay cool.

The book I’m in

the witches of chiswick, by Robert Rankin.

Ha ha, very funny, especially if you’re an erudite worm like me.

The photos

Introducing Naught, my stunt worm:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Actually, Naught is a copy of me, clad in laminate so that I don’t have to risk the wrinkling, colour-leeching and sagging that inevitably result from an extended dunking.

Naught is not bad at bobbing about. Here’s an underwater scene at Shelly Beach. The bobbing bookmark makes a less-than-convincing entrance near the end of the video:

They say imitation is the best form of flattery. Not that this worm is in need of flattery. I’m quite aware of my own worth. I’ve named my stunt worm “Naught”, in honour of another underwater wonder, the Nautilus. And also because “naught” means “nothing”, and although Naught may look like me, he isn’t me and therefore he’s really nothing at all. (I just needed to make that absolutely clear.)

We didn’t find Nemo, nor even Captain Nemo, but Naught is a good alternative. And he seems to have found a mermaid:

Shelly Beach in Manly

There are lots of different fish in the water too. The TC managed to catch one or two in her camera lense. Here’s one:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Here’s another, pretty if you like that sort of thing:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Here are a few silver and striped specimens, perhaps in search of Nemo themselves:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Next up is a blue groper. There are few fish that have caught my interest, but this one does have a good quirk or two. A groper sees a sex change as part of the normal scheme of things. Rumour has it that all gropers start out as girls. Then, when the whim takes them, they turn into boys at the flip of a fin. Boys are blue, girls are greeny-yellow. They can live as long at 35 years, so they have plenty of time to choose their favourite colour. They can grow to about 60cm long. This one is blue so I guess it’s a boy. He’s followed by a flotilla of fans:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Here’s an “artistic” photo of a shoal of tiny little fish that swam round and round the TC, moving too fast to get a good picture:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Above water, Shelly Beach is all go too. Here’s a view from the west side of the beach, looking north towards Manly:

Shelly Beach in Manly

It’s a family beach, with a somewhat disquieting atmosphere of stormy prettiness. Kookaburras and cockatoos wheel above, gropers and other finned things swoop below. Sandwiched between is a layer of swimmers. And Naught, the bobbing bookmark. Any undercurrents are, on the whole, on their best behaviour. The overall effect is intriguing rather than menacing. Most days, anyway.

Here you’re on the west side of the beach looking east:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Now you’re in the middle of the beach, looking north towards Manly:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Here you’re standing on the rocks at the east side of Shelly Beach, looking west across the beach:

Shelly Beach in Manly

This photo is taken from the rocks on Shelly Beach, looking north towards Manly:

Shelly Beach in Manly

The TC made a short video to show it all happening at Shelly Beach. It reminds me of a page from a beginner’s language course, with people doing all sorts of things, contented smiles on their faces and useful little bubbles with the French/German/whatever words describing their activities. But luckily for you, there are no speech bubbles on this video.

As the camera pans past the rocks on the west end of the beach, you will see the well-known Bower surf break. It’s popular among Manly surfers, because it’s one of the last breaks to close out in big surf and offers the cleanest right handers in Sydney. That’s what they say. Take a look:

Meanwhile back home, it’s very very warm. Sydney is treating us to a heat wave. The tree ferns are suffering:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Poor old Drool really wanted to go to the beach too. I told him he’d sink like a stone. Or at least like a faux stone. Drool and Naught have one thing in common — there’s not much real about Drool either:

Shelly Beach in Manly

That’s all for today dudes.

Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

Last night, me and the TC, plus a few of her mates, saw Sydney’s New Year fireworks from the best vantage point in the city. We were in Kirribilli, on a balcony looking directly onto the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

Where it all happens.

Not being a flashy sort of personality myself, I approached the event with some scepticism. You can watch it on YouTube. How much better could it be in real life?

Much better. Photos and videos below.

But first, more from the menagerie

I’ve promised to keep you informed about the TC’s acquaintances and acquisitions. The latest is an enticing, curvy, multi-jointed tripod for the camera.

The tripod goes by the name of Jake, from a three-legged character made famous by our own Rolf Harris. This worm feels a strange affinity with Jake, perhaps because of a certain similarity in segmentation.

The fireworks display was Jake’s first outing, but alas he was not a great success. You’ll notice that it was I who once again hung over the dizzy heights, daring all for the sake of a great photo.

Travel tip

The more feet the better.

The book I’m in

Lion of Macedon, by David Gemmell.

The photos

Me and the fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge, just after midnight on 1 January 2009. I may be looking a bit fuzzy around the edges, but that’s allowed at this time of year:

Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge

The bridge in the early evening was tranquil if a bit chatty. The nearest pylon took on the role of oracle, urging us in big friend letters to “Drink plenty of water” and “Bin your buts” and “Keep the harbour clean”:

Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge

Harbour boats tarted themselves up with lights and drifted decoratively about:

Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge

Then the show started:

Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge

From dark drama:

Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge

To bright white light:

Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge

The theme of the fireworks this year was “storm of creation”. This worm found the display stormy and other-worldly indeed. There were around 100,000 big bangs, so we’re told. I lost count. Some of the best effects were the eddying smoke and moody colours after the flashy pyrotechnics had dimmed. Isn’t that so often the case in life!

Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge

Here’s a short video:

[YouTube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BuAD0ayJ_M]

There are more videos of the fireworks on my YouTube playlist.

This worm is full of high hopes and optimism for 2009. Happy new year to all worms, from me and Peg, Jake, Hand, Drool (who, after heavy new year celebrations of his own, was too babelas to be photographed this morning), the Rival and the rest of the menagerie:

Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge

That’s all for today dudes.

Insects and other low life in Sydney

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion.

Today’s travel notes

Today I’ll give you a worm’s eye view of some insects the TC and I have come across lately. And, following up on my promise of two months ago (By the light of a gibbous moon), I’ll give you another peek into the ups and downs of this worm’s life.

Traveller’s tip

Beware anyone bearing gifts.

The book I’m in

The Laments, by George Hagen.

A funny, comfortable and uncomfortable book. Highly recommended by this worm, who participates but vicariously in the viciousness, vicissitudes and victories of life.

The photos

A word of warning to all my fans: An impending coup of bookmarkian proportions looms.

The book I’m in (The Laments, remember?) deals with the petty conspiracies of daily life and how the average worm triumphs almost willy-nilly. As so often happens, real life is imitating fiction and I’ve recently felt compelled to do some uncomfortable navel gazing. My own navel is nothing to be ashamed of, mark you. But a newer, smoother and shinier one has appeared on the scene. The Rival. She was a gift to the Travelling Companion, so no intended disloyalty on the TC’s part. Still, this worm is wondering what the future may hold.

Me and The Rival:

Insects and other low life in Sydney

Sure, The Rival is younger than me. Some might even says she’s better looking. Maybe she’s made of modern material. Into new technology. (She has leaden inserts, no less.)  But does she have my style and experience? What can I do to make sure I get the best place in the best books? We can’t share a book, that’s for sure. It doesn’t work for me.

Let’s move on, for now. I promised you some insects. Here’s a shot of some flies and ants on a salmon-barked tree near Manly Dam.

Insects and other low life in Sydney

Can’t see them? I guess not everyone has the advantage of a worm’s eye view. So I’ve blown them up for you. Here are the ants:

Insects and other low life in Sydney

And here’s one of the flies. They’re very small and delicate, about the same size as the ants:

Insects and other low life in Sydney

Here are some bees being busy in Manly:

Insects and other low life in Sydney

This is a fungus-covered tree stump near Manly Dam, patrolled by some red beetles:

Insects and other low life in Sydney

Here’s a closer view — a denizen of the bark scurrying for cover:

Insects and other low life in Sydney

This beetle probably thinks he’s camouflaged or something:

Insects and other low life in Sydney

Here’s someone else hiding amongst the vegetation in Allambie:

Insects and other low life in Sydney

This moth or fly is small and moves quickly. They’re a common sight and quite attractive when they sit still long enough to be examined:

Insects and other low life in Sydney

I’ve shown you this creature before, but I’m a slave to her beauty. She’s a fly of some sort, I think, who was gadding around 40 Baskets a while ago. Like all the other creatures on this page, she’s small — less than a centimetre long:

Insects and other low life in Sydney

To round things off, here’s a rather fine specimen of a worm diving for cover:

Insects and other low life in Sydney

Getting back to the attempted coup looming over me: So, what’s your stand on the Battle of the Bookmarks? You’ll notice that The Rival has decked herself out with pictures of ladybirds. Only pictures, note, whereas I am the real thing.

Just to prove I’m into the new-fangled stuff too, here’s me on the iPhone:

Insects and other low life in Sydney

That’s all for today, dudes.

Cockatoos in Sydney

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion.

Today’s travel notes

The cockatoos in the area have discovered the TC. For those who haven’t been following my blog, the TC is She with whom I travel.  She is a soft touch for anything with ffeathers.

In the last week, the TC has been at home in the dying hours of the afternoon. A passing ffeathered ffiend happened to alight on the window sill and tilt its head in what some might call an appealing fashion. The TC rushed off to find some food that might satisfy the bird’s no doubt urgent hunger. Neither the bird nor the TC were experienced in the human-to-avian interface, so there was a bit of inept fumbling. But eventually mutual satisfaction was achieved.

Traveller’s tip

Never trust a bird, no matter how pretty.

The book I’m in

the Visitor, by Jane R Goodall.

Misty eeriness mixed with good solid detective work.

The photos

Me and a cockatoo. You’ll notice that I kept myself well shielded during the entire experience, using a good book as armour against the ffeathered ffiend:

Cockatoos in Sydney

Even I succumbed to the temptation to get just a bit closer. Dude, that’s a big beak:

Cockatoos in Sydney

Are you wondering how Peg has been recently? She’s keeping it together. Her role in the bird-feeding episode was unglamorous but necessary and above all safe:

Cockatoos in Sydney

The other birds in the neighbourhood soon heard about the free food at the TC’s place:

Cockatoos in Sydney

Inevitably, there’s a movie version too. Here’s a cockatoo checking out the action. He’s standing on the roof, sticking his head upside down through the window and looking ineffably daft:

Here’s the ffeathered ffiend as yet not ffed, attempting to look cute and beguiling. His ffriend struts his stuff on the tree behind:

Here’s one bird eating, but looking a trifle uneasy because another is attempting to join the ffeast. You can hear the footsteps clicking on the roof, then bird number two clambers down the window and muscles in on the action:

Not seen enough yet? There’s more on this worm’s YouTube channel.

That’s all for today, dudes.