Don't do hills!

Bertrand Russell said something like, "Of course it is possible that we only came into existence five minutes ago with built in memories and in need of a haircut." It's not only possible, but probable. If I had been around longer and had any real memories, I would have remembered that I Don't Do Hills! Brisbane is full of them and they all go up to Dora and Mike's house in Toowong. I've only walked twice today, and the longer of the two was 1.3 km from Toowong Village and my legs are wobblay. Pathetic. But I haven't had a cigarette since leaving JHB. That has to count for something.

While quoting people, I like Ian Fairweather's comment about painting, "It's between representation and the othr thing, whatever it is, and it's difficult to keep one's balance." Who, I hear you non-antipodean phillistines asking, is Ian Fairweather? He's the oke who painted the the Queen of D..... up at the top there. As Australian painters go, he's quite cool. But not, in my seldom humble opinion, as cool as Fred Williams. Go ahead, google him. Please. He does wonderful things with colour. One of the paintings we saw in the Brisbane Gallery this morning had parts as translucent and iridescent as the polished mica I bought at OT as part of the party pack I'm taking to the Kgosi of Erromango.

As you may have gathered, Dora and Mike took me to the gallery and for a walk along the South Bank this morning. Saw a painting I really wanted to steal (a Fred Williams) and a Water Dragon. And a wren.

And I've walked up some hills.