This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark and can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .
Today’s travel notes
For someone who professes to be the friend and companion of a travelling worm, it seems to this worm that the TC has an unhealthy fascination with birds. She’s been taking pictures of the black cockatoos that have just arrived in our neck of the woods.
Needless to say, I stayed well out of sight. Black cockatoos are partial to the odd grub or two, and I don’t rate their level of discernment very highly. I think they’d pounce first and ask questions second.
“Oops, sorry, did I just swallow Mark Wordsworm, the famous Travelling Worm?”
These are the Sydney yellow-tailed black cockatoos. They seem to drop in at around this time every year, probably because a certain type of gum tree is in flower.
The book I’m in
Lake News, by Barbara Delinsky.
The photos
Me not inviting attention from a big cocky bird:
The black cockatoos are in town
Black cockatoos are difficult photographic subjects, because they’re… well, black. Here’s what the TC managed to get.
Looking savvy:
The black cockatoos are in town
Looking cute and fluffy:
The black cockatoos are in town
Showing off the yellow tail:
The black cockatoos are in town
Prowling along a branch in silhouette, pretending to be a black panther and then spoiling it by squealing like an eagle:
The TC in hot pursuit, snapped by the TC-once-removed:
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark and can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .
Today’s travel notes
The TC is mad. Not raving, just quietly but significantly bananas. This is by now a well-established fact. Nevertheless it bears repeating. In particular, if she invites you out on a walk and says the clouds mean nothing, don’t believe her!
Last week she went walking in the Manly Dam reserve in a rain storm.
My impressions? I do concede that the TC is right when she says the Ozzie bush is beautiful in the rain.
Travel tip
Don’t wear shoes that matter to you. When it rains in the Australian bush, you’ll be up to your ankles in fast-flowing mud within five minutes.
The book I’m in
Blindman’s Bluff, by Faye Kellerman. I’ve moved on a few pages since yesterday. I’m still near enough the middle of the book to feel secure, but it’s getting close to the time when I start worrying that the thickness of pages left is not enough to prevent me warping.
The photos
Me in the Sydney wet. I tend to go to pieces in a storm, and my famous blue raincoat is torn at the shoulder. Luckily I had another effective, if less stylish, waterproof covering with me:
Picture this: It’s pouring with rain, all sensible souls are playing couch potato couch potato, but there’s the TC setting off into the bush with her purple umbrella unfurled:
It’s not long before she starts ooh-ing and aah-ing at the sights she beholds. The only camera at hand is her iPhone, but she is not deterred. Every photo in this blog post was taken on the iPhone:
“Ooh,” coos the TC, “the fairies have strung up their party lights behind an Old Man Banksia”:
Raindrops dangle:
If you look carefully, you’ll see the spider lurking in the leaf on his rain-spangled web:
Don’t expect to stay dry even if it’s not actually raining. Dripping branches bar your way:
Rivulets of water make swirling patterns in the sand, echoing the patterns in the rock:
Here’s a vista with a rain-lit bush in the foreground:
A grass tree in the wet. People also call these plants blackboys or Xanthorrhoea:
Raindrops perched on the flower of an Old Man Banksia:
A path full of puddles mirroring the trees, with the TC’s somewhat inelegant and extremely sodden foot at bottom right:
Two mini waterfalls where there’s usually just dry rock:
The “bleeding” gum trees look even more bloody and gruesome when they’re wet:
More droplets sprinkled on leaves and flowers:
This is the waterfall in the Manly Dam reserve, in full spate after recent heavy rainfall. The TC took this photo today, a week after all the others:
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark and can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .
Today’s travel notes
Me and the TC spotted a praying mantis eating a lizard this afternoon. The TC was appalled but fascinated. Out came the camera, of course. Being not of a ghoulish disposition, I visited the site only after the drama was over.
Warning: If you’re anything like the me and TC, you’ll find the pictures gross. A note of comfort from this worm: The lizard was definitely dead. The TC checked before she took the photos. The lizard’s head was mostly disconnected from its body. Any twitching limbs or tail are purely reflex.
Travel tip
Stay out of the way of praying mantises, even if you’re bigger than they are.
The book I’m in
Blindman’s Bluff, by Faye Kellerman. I’m tempted to say I know who dun it. This is another great book by Faye. She never disappoints this worm.
The photos
Me surveying the site of the drama, well after all parties had dispersed:
Here’s the mantis caught in the act:
They’re half way up a tree fern near Sydney, in New South Wales, Australia. Getting down to it:
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .
Today’s travel notes
The other day I dozed off inside a good book and woke up to find myself at the Atlassian office in Sydney. What on earth is Atlassian? The TC rabbits on about them all the time. Evidently they’re the guys who make Confluence wiki, JIRA bug tracker and some other equally odd-sounding things.
A little bird tweeted that Atlassian are making some big announcements next week. This worm was there during the busy run-up to the big day.
My impressions? Beer fridges, everywhere.
Word of the day: Standup.
Travel tip
When you visit Atlassian in Sydney, remember there’s an upstairs too. That’s where the TC hangs out. Take her some chocolate and your welcome is assured.
Recommended restaurant
Peace Harmony, corner of Erskine and Sussex streets, about 5 minutes’ walk from the Atlassian office. It’s a vegetarian Thai restaurant. The TC raves about the tasty food, the peaceful atmosphere and the outstanding service.
The book I’m in
The Linnet Bird, by Linda Holeman.
The photos
Me inside Atlassian, getting pally with Charlie. He’s the weird looking blue dude with his arms in the air, holding up a saucer (or whatever):
Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian
The Atlassian offices are in the old Corn Exchange building, near Darling Harbour in Sydney:
Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian
Here’s a closer view. The JIRA team is right behind this window:
Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian
Back inside now, this window lights the FishEye/Crucible team:
Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian
Charlie is a bit of a clothes horse. He gets dressed up in various outfits and then hangs around the meeting rooms or Atlassian events, all primped and proper. Here’s me chatting him up. He’s dressed for the board room, where the occasional game of poker happens too:
Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian
Me and Charlie outside the Fishbowl meeting room:
Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian
Me and Charlie in the area of the engineering and product management chiefs. Their desks look out on a gym, so Charlie feels comfortable in less formal attire:
Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian
I doff my mortarboard to Jason of the design team for his endless inventiveness in Charlie’s wardrobe.
Guess what? Hand was there too. You remember Hand, the annoying creature who attached himself to the TC when we were in Surfers Paradise last year. He’s an intrusive fellow with a finger in every pie. So it was no surprise when he insisted on attending a standup at Atlassian. A standup is a weird ritual practised by ‘agile’ programmers. This worm doesn’t think they look particularly agile, loitering around in a circle and uttering the odd technical phrase every now and then.
Here’s Hand getting underfoot at a standup. The feet are attached to the technical writing team:
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .
Today’s travel notes
Let’s go fly a kite, up where the air is bright… It’s mid winter in Sydney, and the TC took it into her head to hop into a Tiger Moth and fly over Sydney.
“You picked the coldest day of the year,” the pilot announced when we arrived. And cold it was. One degree Celsius on the ground, but bright and clear and beautiful too.
My impressions? Soft, floating, breath taking, beautiful.
Word of the day: Butterfly
Will this worm ever become a butterfly? I do hope not. They’re ephemeral, fickle beings. “Word of the day” is right. But now I’ve had a go at flitting around the skies on papery wings and it has a certain something.
Travel tip
Don’t touch the pedals and levers in your cockpit. They work.
Recommended restaurant
Bring your own, hot, coffee.
Recommended aviation company
Airborne Aviation, at Camden airport near Sydney. They’re friendly, professional, no nonsense. The experience was just awesome. (Those are the TC’s words. She tends to enthuse.)
The book I’m in
Third Strike, by Zoë Sharp.
The TC rather likes the Charlie Fox thrillers.
The photos
Me getting up close and personal with a Tiger Moth’s propeller:
Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney
Me and the TC went up in a 1940s vintage Tiger Moth:
Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney
The TC-once-removed was in a Boeing Stearman, built in 1943. Both planes are roughly the same age. The Boeing has a bigger engine, but pushes out about the same horse power, according to our pilot. This discrepancy is easy to understand, our instructor went on with gleeful scorn, once you know that Tiger Moths are British while the Boeings were designed in the US!
Me cosying up to the Boeing Stearman:
Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney
Due to the Boeing’s ungainly design 😉 the pilots had to run the engine for 20 minutes to warm it up before takeoff. When we arrived, it was still stuttering and sputtering in the cold morning air.
The little Tiger Moth was altogether more obliging. Open the hatch:
Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney
Plug in the electric heater — that’s the black box with the electric cable at top left — and leave it to warm up:
Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney
Push the plane out into the open, and you’re ready to rock and roll. Here’s a view of the Moth’s two cockpits:
Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney
Here’s a Biggles snap of the TC, as requested by my friend the Sandgroper:
Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney
Up, up and away in the Tiger Moth:
Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney
We took off on grass, both planes together, and were in the air before we knew it. The TC-once-removed took some snaps from the Stearman too:
Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney
The Boeing Stearman is so comfy, it’s “like a big old lounge chair with a plane built around it”, said the pilot:
Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney
We flew for about 15 minutes, from Camden airport to Warragamba Dam, then headed back to Camden. Here’s Warragamba Dam seen from the Moth:
Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney
Here’s a short video of the Tiger Moth zooming up to the Boeing. Me and the TC are in the front cockpit of the Moth:
Sometimes we seemed close enough to touch. Here’s the Boeing Stearman, filmed by the TC from the Moth:
The Tiger Moth looks frail and, well, ephemeral. Like those butterfly dudes. But it holds its own against the good old Boeing. This video starts in the Boeing’s cockpit then swings round to find the Moth:
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .
Today’s travel notes
Me and the TC have been back home for a couple of weeks now, after our trip to San Francisco and Seattle. Jet lag is a thing of the past. The trip is already receding into the mists of memory.
Did we ever go at all? Sometimes this worm thinks a good book is more real than life itself.
Speaking of real life, there just has to be a better form of long-distance travel than the aircraft. The TC is not a good traveller. After about six hours on a plane, she becomes miserable, mussy and messy. Very messy.
Me, I’d suggest teleportation. Just drop into a fax machine and materialise on the other side of the world. Make sure it’s a high-definition, high-colour fax machine, or you may lose some vital bits.
Travel tip
Don’t double-knot your shoe laces until you’ve been through airport security.
Recommended restaurant
Home sweet home.
The book I’m in
The Villa, by Nora Roberts.
A good old-fashioned intrigue set in San Francisco and Italy, seasoned with romance and noble wines.
The photos
Me back in the bosom of my family:
Sunrise in Sydney
Hand was a bit emotional on my return. I was touched. Peg took centre stage as usual. In an uncharacteristic bout of soppiness, Drool allowed The Rival and Naught to drape themselves all over him. Naught is stuck in his waterproof suit. I don’t think we’ll ever get it off him. I did tell him of the perils of lamination, but he just would not listen. At least I escaped his fate. That’s the beauty of having a stunt worm.
Sydney is heading into winter. The sunrises are begrudgingly gorgeous at this time of year:
Sunrise in Sydney
With the longer nights and the swap to daylight saving time, there’s a chance you’ll be awake to enjoy a sunrise over the sea:
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .
Today’s travel notes
There’s a heat wave on in Sydney, Australia. If you like the heat, this is where you should be. Weather reports say we’re the hottest place on the planet this weekend.
This is when all savvy Sidney-siders hit the beaches. Shelly Beach is one of the best. It’s all happening: scuba-diving, snorkelling, swimming, paddling, stand-up and sit-down canoeing, splashing or just plain lying around.
Shelly Beach is part of the Cabbage Tree Bay reserve, at the quiet end of Manly Beach. Unlike the rest of the Sydney ocean coast, Shelly Beach points north rather than east. It’s tucked away in a little fold of the coast and has a character all its own.
Travel tip
Stay cool.
The book I’m in
the witches of chiswick, by Robert Rankin.
Ha ha, very funny, especially if you’re an erudite worm like me.
The photos
Introducing Naught, my stunt worm:
Shelly Beach in Manly
Actually, Naught is a copy of me, clad in laminate so that I don’t have to risk the wrinkling, colour-leeching and sagging that inevitably result from an extended dunking.
Naught is not bad at bobbing about. Here’s an underwater scene at Shelly Beach. The bobbing bookmark makes a less-than-convincing entrance near the end of the video:
They say imitation is the best form of flattery. Not that this worm is in need of flattery. I’m quite aware of my own worth. I’ve named my stunt worm “Naught”, in honour of another underwater wonder, the Nautilus. And also because “naught” means “nothing”, and although Naught may look like me, he isn’t me and therefore he’s really nothing at all. (I just needed to make that absolutely clear.)
We didn’t find Nemo, nor even Captain Nemo, but Naught is a good alternative. And he seems to have found a mermaid:
Shelly Beach in Manly
There are lots of different fish in the water too. The TC managed to catch one or two in her camera lense. Here’s one:
Shelly Beach in Manly
Here’s another, pretty if you like that sort of thing:
Shelly Beach in Manly
Here are a few silver and striped specimens, perhaps in search of Nemo themselves:
Shelly Beach in Manly
Next up is a blue groper. There are few fish that have caught my interest, but this one does have a good quirk or two. A groper sees a sex change as part of the normal scheme of things. Rumour has it that all gropers start out as girls. Then, when the whim takes them, they turn into boys at the flip of a fin. Boys are blue, girls are greeny-yellow. They can live as long at 35 years, so they have plenty of time to choose their favourite colour. They can grow to about 60cm long. This one is blue so I guess it’s a boy. He’s followed by a flotilla of fans:
Shelly Beach in Manly
Here’s an “artistic” photo of a shoal of tiny little fish that swam round and round the TC, moving too fast to get a good picture:
Shelly Beach in Manly
Above water, Shelly Beach is all go too. Here’s a view from the west side of the beach, looking north towards Manly:
Shelly Beach in Manly
It’s a family beach, with a somewhat disquieting atmosphere of stormy prettiness. Kookaburras and cockatoos wheel above, gropers and other finned things swoop below. Sandwiched between is a layer of swimmers. And Naught, the bobbing bookmark. Any undercurrents are, on the whole, on their best behaviour. The overall effect is intriguing rather than menacing. Most days, anyway.
Here you’re on the west side of the beach looking east:
Shelly Beach in Manly
Now you’re in the middle of the beach, looking north towards Manly:
Shelly Beach in Manly
Here you’re standing on the rocks at the east side of Shelly Beach, looking west across the beach:
Shelly Beach in Manly
This photo is taken from the rocks on Shelly Beach, looking north towards Manly:
Shelly Beach in Manly
The TC made a short video to show it all happening at Shelly Beach. It reminds me of a page from a beginner’s language course, with people doing all sorts of things, contented smiles on their faces and useful little bubbles with the French/German/whatever words describing their activities. But luckily for you, there are no speech bubbles on this video.
As the camera pans past the rocks on the west end of the beach, you will see the well-known Bower surf break. It’s popular among Manly surfers, because it’s one of the last breaks to close out in big surf and offers the cleanest right handers in Sydney. That’s what they say. Take a look:
Meanwhile back home, it’s very very warm. Sydney is treating us to a heat wave. The tree ferns are suffering:
Shelly Beach in Manly
Poor old Drool really wanted to go to the beach too. I told him he’d sink like a stone. Or at least like a faux stone. Drool and Naught have one thing in common — there’s not much real about Drool either:
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .
Today’s travel notes
Last night, me and the TC, plus a few of her mates, saw Sydney’s New Year fireworks from the best vantage point in the city. We were in Kirribilli, on a balcony looking directly onto the Sydney Harbour Bridge.
Where it all happens.
Not being a flashy sort of personality myself, I approached the event with some scepticism. You can watch it on YouTube. How much better could it be in real life?
Much better. Photos and videos below.
But first, more from the menagerie
I’ve promised to keep you informed about the TC’s acquaintances and acquisitions. The latest is an enticing, curvy, multi-jointed tripod for the camera.
The tripod goes by the name of Jake, from a three-legged character made famous by our own Rolf Harris. This worm feels a strange affinity with Jake, perhaps because of a certain similarity in segmentation.
The fireworks display was Jake’s first outing, but alas he was not a great success. You’ll notice that it was I who once again hung over the dizzy heights, daring all for the sake of a great photo.
Travel tip
The more feet the better.
The book I’m in
Lion of Macedon, by David Gemmell.
The photos
Me and the fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge, just after midnight on 1 January 2009. I may be looking a bit fuzzy around the edges, but that’s allowed at this time of year:
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge
The bridge in the early evening was tranquil if a bit chatty. The nearest pylon took on the role of oracle, urging us in big friend letters to “Drink plenty of water” and “Bin your buts” and “Keep the harbour clean”:
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge
Harbour boats tarted themselves up with lights and drifted decoratively about:
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge
Then the show started:
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge
From dark drama:
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge
To bright white light:
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge
The theme of the fireworks this year was “storm of creation”. This worm found the display stormy and other-worldly indeed. There were around 100,000 big bangs, so we’re told. I lost count. Some of the best effects were the eddying smoke and moody colours after the flashy pyrotechnics had dimmed. Isn’t that so often the case in life!
This worm is full of high hopes and optimism for 2009. Happy new year to all worms, from me and Peg, Jake, Hand, Drool (who, after heavy new year celebrations of his own, was too babelas to be photographed this morning), the Rival and the rest of the menagerie:
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion.
Today’s travel notes
Today I’ll give you a worm’s eye view of some insects the TC and I have come across lately. And, following up on my promise of two months ago (By the light of a gibbous moon), I’ll give you another peek into the ups and downs of this worm’s life.
Traveller’s tip
Beware anyone bearing gifts.
The book I’m in
The Laments, by George Hagen.
A funny, comfortable and uncomfortable book. Highly recommended by this worm, who participates but vicariously in the viciousness, vicissitudes and victories of life.
The photos
A word of warning to all my fans: An impending coup of bookmarkian proportions looms.
The book I’m in (The Laments, remember?) deals with the petty conspiracies of daily life and how the average worm triumphs almost willy-nilly. As so often happens, real life is imitating fiction and I’ve recently felt compelled to do some uncomfortable navel gazing. My own navel is nothing to be ashamed of, mark you. But a newer, smoother and shinier one has appeared on the scene. The Rival. She was a gift to the Travelling Companion, so no intended disloyalty on the TC’s part. Still, this worm is wondering what the future may hold.
Me and The Rival:
Insects and other low life in Sydney
Sure, The Rival is younger than me. Some might even says she’s better looking. Maybe she’s made of modern material. Into new technology. (She has leaden inserts, no less.) But does she have my style and experience? What can I do to make sure I get the best place in the best books? We can’t share a book, that’s for sure. It doesn’t work for me.
Let’s move on, for now. I promised you some insects. Here’s a shot of some flies and ants on a salmon-barked tree near Manly Dam.
Insects and other low life in Sydney
Can’t see them? I guess not everyone has the advantage of a worm’s eye view. So I’ve blown them up for you. Here are the ants:
Insects and other low life in Sydney
And here’s one of the flies. They’re very small and delicate, about the same size as the ants:
Insects and other low life in Sydney
Here are some bees being busy in Manly:
Insects and other low life in Sydney
This is a fungus-covered tree stump near Manly Dam, patrolled by some red beetles:
Insects and other low life in Sydney
Here’s a closer view — a denizen of the bark scurrying for cover:
Insects and other low life in Sydney
This beetle probably thinks he’s camouflaged or something:
Insects and other low life in Sydney
Here’s someone else hiding amongst the vegetation in Allambie:
Insects and other low life in Sydney
This moth or fly is small and moves quickly. They’re a common sight and quite attractive when they sit still long enough to be examined:
Insects and other low life in Sydney
I’ve shown you this creature before, but I’m a slave to her beauty. She’s a fly of some sort, I think, who was gadding around 40 Baskets a while ago. Like all the other creatures on this page, she’s small — less than a centimetre long:
Insects and other low life in Sydney
To round things off, here’s a rather fine specimen of a worm diving for cover:
Insects and other low life in Sydney
Getting back to the attempted coup looming over me: So, what’s your stand on the Battle of the Bookmarks? You’ll notice that The Rival has decked herself out with pictures of ladybirds. Only pictures, note, whereas I am the real thing.
Just to prove I’m into the new-fangled stuff too, here’s me on the iPhone:
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion.
Today’s travel notes
The cockatoos in the area have discovered the TC. For those who haven’t been following my blog, the TC is She with whom I travel. She is a soft touch for anything with ffeathers.
In the last week, the TC has been at home in the dying hours of the afternoon. A passing ffeathered ffiend happened to alight on the window sill and tilt its head in what some might call an appealing fashion. The TC rushed off to find some food that might satisfy the bird’s no doubt urgent hunger. Neither the bird nor the TC were experienced in the human-to-avian interface, so there was a bit of inept fumbling. But eventually mutual satisfaction was achieved.
Traveller’s tip
Never trust a bird, no matter how pretty.
The book I’m in
the Visitor, by Jane R Goodall.
Misty eeriness mixed with good solid detective work.
The photos
Me and a cockatoo. You’ll notice that I kept myself well shielded during the entire experience, using a good book as armour against the ffeathered ffiend:
Cockatoos in Sydney
Even I succumbed to the temptation to get just a bit closer. Dude, that’s a big beak:
Cockatoos in Sydney
Are you wondering how Peg has been recently? She’s keeping it together. Her role in the bird-feeding episode was unglamorous but necessary and above all safe:
Cockatoos in Sydney
The other birds in the neighbourhood soon heard about the free food at the TC’s place:
Cockatoos in Sydney
Inevitably, there’s a movie version too. Here’s a cockatoo checking out the action. He’s standing on the roof, sticking his head upside down through the window and looking ineffably daft:
Here’s the ffeathered ffiend as yet not ffed, attempting to look cute and beguiling. His ffriend struts his stuff on the tree behind:
Here’s one bird eating, but looking a trifle uneasy because another is attempting to join the ffeast. You can hear the footsteps clicking on the roof, then bird number two clambers down the window and muscles in on the action:
Not seen enough yet? There’s more on this worm’s YouTube channel.
Travelling Worm 