Mount Ngauruhoe is apparently still an active volcano, has been for 2,500 years or so, and last erupted on 19th February 1975, and reportedly has erupted around 70 times since 1839.
The mountain is usually climbed from the western side, from the Mangatepopo track.
This photo was taken in summer from the Chateau Tongariro carpark.
In late autumn, on one of our many visits to the area, the mountain was covered with a light sprinkling of snow and ice.
On our most recent visit, this year, in winter, it was fully covered in snow.
Yes, this is exactly what a dog does, sometimes annoyingly all night, that sharp explosive cry of a dog or, believe it or not, a seal
Much better if the dog is a guard dog, because then you need it to bark when there is intruders
Then there’s another form of bark, that which grows on a tree, and makes excelled burning material, if not a little smoky, for a BBQ.
Ot that the bark of some trees can be used as material for carving, and of others, like the paperbark, to make was seems like paper to write on.
Then there are expressions that start to make you think, concerning this word, such as:
He was a boss that liked to bark orders. I had one like that, almost looked like a dog too. Never could ask someone kindly.
He was barking up the wrong tree. Never seen a dog do this, but many people gave so the literal meaning is to waste your time looking in the wrong place
Then there’s bark or barque, the name of a certain type of boat or masted ship with three or more masts, dating back to sailing days
And then, just top it all off, someone goes and says your barking mad. Probably just after you were barking up the wrong tree, looking for the barking dog on a barque.
It can be a paradox in that an ordinary man may strive to be recognised, that is, to rise above his inherent anonymity simply because he feels he has something more to offer mankind than just making up the numbers.
But sadly, that desire will often be met with staunch resistance, not because there’s an active campaign against him, it’s just the way of the world.
The fact is, most of us will always be anonymous to the rest of the world, but in being so in that respect it’s that anonymity we can live with. However, it’s far more significant if we become anonymous to those around us. And, sadly, it can happen.
It’s when we take someone for granted.
At the other end of the scale, there is the celebrity, who has finally found fame, discovers that fame is not all it’s cracked up to be. You find that meteoric rise from obscurity an adrenaline rush, and you’re no longer anonymous.
But all that changes when you are constantly bailed up in the street by well-meaning but annoying fans when you are being chased by the paparazzi and magazine reporters who thrive not on the fact that you are famous but watching and waiting for you to stumble.
Some often forget that there’s always a camera on them, or there’s a reporter lurking in the shadows, looking for the next scoop, capturing that awkward inexplicable moment when the celebrity is seen with someone who’s not their spouse, or worse, if it could be that, they get drunk and make a fool of themselves.
Do I really want to lose that anonymity that I have?
Not really. It seems to me like it might be the lesser of two evils.
Through this window, which wasn’t one of those floor to ceiling, walk out onto a balcony type windows, we saw big ships, little ships, small boats, and then huge ocean liners.
And when that wasn’t enough, sunrise and sunset, or just the sight of Venice in the sunshine
The many vaporettos that came and went
It was simply a matter of watching ships go by, or watching the Venetians go about the daily business
Ferries that would arrive in the morning, and leave at night, small
and large
Small ocean liners
Very, very large ocean liners
And everything in between
And, whilst COVID 19 would make it a very difficult decision to take to the sea in one of these large ships, before that time, it was a matter of picking a destination and a day, for ships came and went every day, to Athens, to the Mediterranean, to Turkey, anywhere really.
All you needed was the money and the time.
And, as for plots and writing, it is a writer’s paradise, where you are limited only by your imagination.
Of course we all know this word is a colour, or color depending on where you live.
You know, blue sky, deep blue sea, blonde hair blue eyes. Very descriptive.
But it can also mean you are down in the dumps, a rather strange, for some, expression that means you are sad or unhappy.
For others to have a blue means to have a fight with someone
And oddly, and I know this from first hand experience, that a red haired person will be called bluey, or less pleasing either carrot top or blood nut. I used to ignore those people who used those expressions, except for my father in law.
You can do something until you are blue in the face, which means do it without result until exhaustion, another way of saying your wasting your time.
And if something comes out of the blue, it usually means its entirely unexpected. For me, that’s always a bill I wasn’t expecting, for someone else an inheritance.
And in some parts of the world, blue is used as a synonym for conservative political party, for insistence, the Liberal party in Australia, and the Democrats in the United States
Blue should not be confused with the word blew, which is the past tense of blow, which is wind causing an air current, or blowing air through pursed lips.
That doesn’t mean that if something blew up it was just a giant air mass exploding because it can’t. If a bomb blew up it means it detonated.
And if that sounds complicated:
What if something blew my mind? Does that mean my head exploded? No, it just means its incomprehensible, whether good or bad.
Or
What if I blew a fortune on a three legged horse? We all throw good money after bad, but you can easily lose a fortune, or blew it.
Its the same thing with opportunities, for instance, he had a chance and he blew it. Yes, obviously something better came along, not, or he just ignored a sterling opportunity.
The castle is located in the southern Chianti Classico countryside and has been there for over ten centuries, and owned by the Ricasoli family since 1141.
The newer part of the castle dates from the 1800s. The larger brick palace was built in the Gothic revival-style.
The new castle was built on top of the old castle’s ramparts
The walkway leads to the guard’s tower, and views over the countryside, and in particular, the styled gardens of English origin
We all know what this means, without moisture, in other words not wet.
It could also mean dull factually, as in reading some non-fiction books, and quite often those prescribed as mandatory reading at school.
You could also have a dry sense of humour, where you have to be on your game to understand, or get, the humour.
It could also describe boredom by saying that it’s like watching paint dry.
For those who like a bit of a tipple, the last place you want to go is a dry bar, where no alcohol is served.
Perhaps this should be mandatory for weddings and funerals, places where feelings often run very high and do not need the stimulus of half a dozen double Scotches.
And speaking of alcohol and cider in particular, you can have it sweet, dry, or draft. Many people prefer dry, sometimes the drier the better, especially wine, and oddly martinis.
Aside from whether they are shaken or stirred.
But the most fascinating version of dry is dry cleaning. Just how can you ‘dry’ clean clothes?
It’s not that we often go out to cafés for lunch, but this week we decided to spend a few days out of the city.
Not that our travel options are all that plentiful far afield because of the coronavirus travel restrictions, but our state, Queensland, has a lot of places not far from home, but can make it feel like you are.
So, here we are in Canungra, a small town in what is known as the Gold Coast hinterland, or more generally the “Scenic Rim”.
Before going to the cottage we have booked for a few days, we’re stopping off at a cage we know has good coffee, and cakes, to have lunch, and, of course, coffee.
But, here’s the thing…
Sometimes its not just the food that’s the draw, it’s the atmosphere, and the diverse collection of patrons.
Being a tourist destination, you’re more likely to be surrounded by visitors from far afield than locals, and this day was no exception.
And although we are still practising social distancing, people are close enough, and in some cases, loud enough that you can overhear their conversations.
Like, the fish and chips in Ceduna, located in another state, South Australia, are dreadful, because of the fat dripping off the batter on the fish. A handy hint indeed, if I’m ever in Ceduna.
Then, like a lot of older people do, a discussion turns the medical problems and procedures, described, at times, in gory detail. Thank God I was not eating at the time, because vivid descriptions are about as bad as watching medical dramas on TV, and one in particular, “Transplant”.
I guess when you’re 74 there’s not a lot you have in common with others except the frailty of the human body. And if you’re a caravanner, the places you’ve been, good and bad.
Sadly my idea of camping is a four star hotel.
Then the food arrives, a rather large hamburger, stabbed to death by a steak knife, just to make sure it’s truly dead, and my selection, beer battered flathead and chips with the largest salad I’ve had in a long time.
Needless to say my expectations were exceeded, and it was not only filling, but delicious.
I’m sure we’ll be back again in the not too distant future, surprisingly because if there was no coronavirus we may never have discovered this little slice of paradise.
The castle is located in the southern Chianti Classico countryside and has been there for over ten centuries, and owned by the Ricasoli family since 1141.
Like any good castle, it has strong defences, and I was looking for a moat and drawbridge, but it looks like the moat has become a lawn.
The very high walls in places no doubt were built to keep the enemy out
The castle has been destroyed and rebuilt many times over the last 900 years. It was part of the Florentine defenses, and withstood, and succumbed to many battles with Siena, which is only 20 km away. More recently, it still bears the scars of artillery fire and bombing in WW2.
The room at the top of this tower would have an excellent view of the countryside.
Here you can see the old and the new, the red brick part of the rebuilding in the 1800’s in the style of an English Manor
We did not get to see where that archway led.
Nor what was behind door number one at the top of these stairs. Rest assured, many, many years ago someone wearing armor would have made the climb. It would not pass current occupational health and safety these days with a number of stairs before a landing.
Cappella di San Jacopo. Its foundations were laid in 1348.
Renovated in 1867-1869, it has a gabled façade preceded by a double stone staircase. The interior, with a crypt where the members of the Ricasoli family are buried, has a nave divided into three spans with cross vaults.
The 1,200 hectares of the property include 240 hectares of vineyards and 26 of olive groves, in the commune of Gaiole.
I’ve had the ubiquitous pleasure of being called one, and that is, a bore.
Probably because I spend so much time telling people about the joys and woes of being a writer.
You can be a tedious bore, cooking could be a bore, and then you could bore someone to death, and then you will bore the responsibility of, yes, doing just that.
Would it be murder or manslaughter?
But, of course, there are other meanings of the word, such as, on my farm I have a bore.
No, we’re not talking about the farmhand, but where artesian water is brought to the surface, in what would otherwise be very arid land.
Or, could be the size of a drill hole, and in a specific instance the measurement of the circular space that piston goes up and down. And if you increase the size of the bore, the more powerful the engine.
Or it could refer to the size of a gun barrel, for all of you who are crime fiction writers.
But, let’s not after all of that, confuse it with another interpretation of the word, boar, which is basically a male pig.
It could also just as easily describe certain men.
Then there is another interpretation, boor, which is an extremely rude person, or a peasant, a country bumpkin or a yokel.
I’ve only seen the latter in old American movies.
There is one more, rather obscure interpretation, and that is boer, which is a Dutch South African, who at the turn of the last century found themselves embroiled in a war with the British.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 