d r i n k s t e r: A STROLL ON HICKINBOTHAM CLARENDON

03 May 2014

A STROLL ON HICKINBOTHAM CLARENDON

Humans who think about helping country, taking a walk in this afternoon's misty autumn drizzle: Alexander Rix, Planning Institute Australia's national planner of the year 2014, Michael Lane, vineyards and property manager, Yangarra Estate and Hickinbotham Clarendon Vineyard, and Stephen Forbes, executive director, SA Botanic Gardens and State Herbarium. They're at the bottom of the Jackson Family's Hickinbotham Clarendon Vineyard, at the river on the Onkaparinga Gorge ... it's beautiful country down there, and all the way on to the Gulf St Vincent, fifteen kays to the west ... Vincent is the patron of viticulturers ... in the local Kuarna tongue, Onkaparinga is where the women (Onka) hide by the safe place of the water (paringa) while the men make inter-tribal war over control of the ceremonial red ochre pits on the coast ... photo Philip White ... photo below, of the same vineyard from 100 metres above by Maynard James Keenan ... ta Jimmy ... ain't it funny how we see and record things so differently ... Godabless! Praise Bacchus and Pan

4 comments:

clean said...: did mick fart whitey; May 3, 2014 at 4:01 AM
colin said...: Michael Lane is the greatest viticulturer on earth; May 5, 2014 at 2:10 AM
sagasco said...: MICKTHANE; May 5, 2014 at 6:57 PM
ozflo said...: see how mick's farts level the water; May 5, 2014 at 8:26 PM

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CONFESSIONS

"After enough years newspapermen begin to pall on other newspapermen; they begin to take their good qualities for granted and wince at their shortcomings, of which the most common are a vanity that sometimes borders on the thespian and a sort of perpetual mental adolescence that I think stems from starting a fresh story every day or every week or month and never having time to get to the bottom of anything. They forget that newspapermen as a class have a yearning for truth as involuntary as a hophead’s addiction to junk. The question of whether the junkie really loves hop is academic; he can’t get along without it. A newspaperman may write a lie to hold his job, but he won’t believe it, and the necessity outrages him so that he craves truth all the more thereafter. A few newspapermen lie to get on in the world, but it outrages them, too, and I have never known a dishonest journalist who wasn’t patently an unhappy bastard."

A.J. Liebling,

war correspondent,

New Yorker,

Algiers,

January 1942.