L. R. Denham

This and that . . .

Automation gone mad

EZ-TAG

The EZ-TAG with a nice reflection of an ash tree as background

Read the rest of this entry »

Ice-bound in Antarctica

My beautiful picture

As I write this, the Akademik Shokalskiy sits trapped in heavy pack ice, near the edge of the pack-ice north of Terre Adelie, where it has been since before Christmas. Just outside the pack are the Xue Long and the Aurora Australis. Read the rest of this entry »

Tales my father told

While I was growing up outside Sydney, Australia, my father often told me stories about his father.

My grandfather, Albert Eldred Denham, left home to make his own way back when the world was wide. Home was the selection on Brokenshaft Creek, west of Orange, New South Wales. Al had come with his family from Shanklin, Isle of Wight, at the age of seven. He was the fourth of six children, and the farm was getting pretty small by the time he turned twenty-one, in 1890.

Arid flat plains

Western Plains of NSW

He and his younger brother Bert put together a business which filled a small niche in the Colonial economy. They would travel the outback, the western plains of New South Wales, trading small amounts of goods, and working at any available jobs when there was nothing to be traded.

Read the rest of this entry »

The cat and the gift bag

Oliver20130818ed
It started, I suppose, when Oliver adopted us. Oliver is a big orange marmalade cat with white feet, white belly, and a little bit of white around his nose. For a twenty-pound animal armed with the usual set of razor-sharp claws and impressive teeth he is surprisingly peaceful. If the doorbell rings, he disappears. If a strange cat approaches him, he gives one hiss just to show his teeth, and disappears. If a visitor tries to stroke his soft fur he disappears. He loves finding boxes, cabinets, and corners to hide in. About the only thing that is almost guaranteed to bring him out of hiding is food. He was a tiny, starving, kitten when he showed up on out doorstep a few years ago, and has never forgotten what being hungry feels like.

Read the rest of this entry »

On being left-handed

I’ve known I was different as far back as I can remember. I use my left hand for doing things that most people do with their right hand.
Read the rest of this entry »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.