Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Big chickens, little fish, long walk

There's some furious work going on at my desk at the moment. Writing a new little section into Chapter One [check], some more polishing of Introduction and Acknowledgements [check]; and now having another look at the final chapter before the last round of revisions, removing excessive punctuation and starting to get footnotes in final order.

So not much blogging or facebooking at the moment. In lieu, some photos.

The chickens are enormous: time for them to go up to Ceres pretty soon, I think.


And the baby fish are growing, too: big enough to start nibbling directly on the fish food: 



Their parents are looking good, too.



And it hardly deserves a mention, because it is so unutterably depressing, but the cricket is on, and the Ashes are gone. Boxing Day at the MCG was awful. The crowd was enormous (89,000?), and most of it very quiet, as we watched one after another Australian batsmen go out. It was freezing cold, with a nasty wind blowing up into the pavilion. There was a rain interruption, and by the time I took this photo the lights were on. It was a very long quiet walk back to the pavilion in the afternoon.


A chirpy Englishman climbed back into his seat near us at one point and said cheerfully, "It's awfully quiet up here!" And we were all so depressed no one had anything to say in reply. And it's just gone from bad to worse since then. 

OK, back to work.

3 comments:

Kerryn Goldsworthy said...

But what happened about Paul's flight? Did he indeed walk in in the middle of Christmas Eve lunch? Did it all work out well? Here we have been, patiently waiting for the narrative to be resumed, and you fob us off with fish and chickens. Most excellent fish and chickens, but you know what I mean, as Cecil Vye says of the Honeychurches in A Room With A View.

Stephanie Trigg said...

Oh yes. I composed that blog in my head and forgot to post!

He did, in fact, make it home on Christmas Eve, though his plane from Bangkok was delayed for four hours. His brother picked him up from Tullamarine and he walked in, just between presents and pudding. After a shower and a shave, he was ready to rally the troops for the traditional game of cricket. Everyone played, with the exception of his Dad, who did the dishes, his Mum, who took the photos, and his niece, who was the spectator. Our American friends took to the field, too, and everyone had a bat and a bowl.

And after a good night's sleep, Paul was up and ready to cook Christmas Day dinner for the second family party...

But remind me never to let him travel so close to Christmas again: no fun!

Jeffrey J. Cohen said...

The best part of the post, Stephanie, arrives in your comment! Welcome back Paul. It sounds like Christmas was just as good as it should be.