The family of sulphur-crested cockatoos at the end of the street are taking a special interest in life at the moment; they descend from their home in the huge tree by the traffic roundabout, and this morning five of them were sitting in a sedate row on the side of the pavement, sneering at the dogs as I walked past. At the right time of year they descend on the tree outside the house and devour the nuts, carefully holding them always in their left claws (why?) and then dropping them with superb precision on the bonnet of the car beneath. But they're such delightful and decorative creatures, who cares?
On another subject altogether I see that someone is bravely starting up a weekly newspaper, The Saturday Paper, which looks as though it will be a sort of cross between the SMH and The Spectator (which incidentally published an Australian edition, which is the English one plus ten pages of 'Australian interest'! Anyway,the new periodical looks interesting, the advertisement speaks well of it, and the list of contributors is promising. The problem is, has one time to read yet another journal?
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