Foxes are not native to Australia, but they do like it here and have been quite successful in the south-east.  From what I’ve seen, they are particularly partial to hoovering up possums like Kit Kats.  They can be beautiful, but are quite the pest.

This fellow’s luck ran out at the local golf club.  It’s not clear what killed him; perhaps someone shanked a drive on the 12th hole.  I sincerely doubt he was tracked down the high street by a pack of hounds and a field of horses and riders.  I’d have noticed that.

I offer apologies to Edgar Degas, Gustave Courbet, Winslow Homer and everyone else who has painted a dead fox.

This desk-bound still life shows just how badly I need to declutter my desk.  The Spirit of Ecstasy (or is that Ecstacy?) is cheek by wing against a letter rack, clock, and post card of the Winged Victory of Samothrace.  I bought the Spirit from someone who sells bits of old cars, and it is infinitely more elegant than a petrol cap.  It would seem, of course, to have been severed from a Rolls Royce.

I realise Rolls Royces are now the preserve of slightly hilarious businessmen and oil sheikhs (or is that sheiks? or shayks? or shaikhs? etc. etc.).  However, the Spirit sets a good example for car mascots (or is it hood ornaments?).  There should be more statues on the fronts of cars.  I for one would like the Trevi fountain on the bonnet (or hood?) of our Toyota.  However, I suspect it would present a ‘penetration hazard’ for other cars and pedestrians, and might compromise our fuel economy and front springs.

Now I’m not one to dwell on the possibilities of an afterlife.  But if there is a better place after this one, I should hope it packs in as much amenity as this little patch of Flinders Lane.  It has imaginative second hand clothes shops, perhaps too many cafes, a city library with a piano in it, a very good art supply shop, and dramatic afternoon shadows that seem  (counterintuitively) to be there for most of the day.

This car park appears to have been scooped out of the earth under Ueno Park in Tokyo.  It is like a goblin’s treasure cave, except instead of gold it is full of Subarus.  I think it is high time more paintings were done of car park entrances. They are a strangely neglected subject in the art world.

Coffee is not just a drink, it is a friend.  This is a self portrait of me (as most self portraits tend to be) enjoying a clear Melbourne winter morning with a friend.  You can just see me reflected in Mr Coffee Pot.  Yes, I do have an unfeasibly ovoid head with blurry features, especially when I am moving fast as I tend to do after drinking coffee.