About Me
I'm a Melbourne boy, hailing from St Kilda with one ex, one current wife and four kids. Love the outdoors and making new discoveries. I cook a lot at home (cheers from wife) and do some preserving, mostly jams, pickles and fruit liqueurs. This is the diary of a cooking journey.

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Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Slow Down, You Move Too Fast
The cyclist was pedalling fast down a small slope, up ahead was a dogleg in the road to negotiate then a small hill; the sun was just up, warming his back. He wanted speed to get up the hill.

Coming from the other direction was a station wagon, the woman driving was running a little late, not really speeding just hurrying. Sun glare was making it difficult to see so she pulled down the sun visor, her turn was just up ahead. Suddenly, as the woman started her turn, a shape burst from the shadows that the sun glare had made it hard to see into. Sensing the danger she jammed on the brakes; the car had enough momentum for the tyres to screech but it was too late.

Hearing the noise of the tyres I turned around just in time to see the cyclist collide with the car. He bounced off the windscreen in a slow motion somersault, cartwheeled across the bonnet and landed on his feet on the other side of the car. The cyclist immediately launched into verbal abuse of the driver, which gentle reader I have no intention of repeating other than to say it was intensely felt.

Our bodies are wonderful things that have amazing mechanisms to get us through a crisis, this mans' body was no exception. Shock kicked in, the cyclist went from standing to slumped on the grass beside the road, he ripped off his helmut and glasses and laid down. I went into the shop where I buy my morning paper to make sure they were calling an ambulance; I could still see the cyclist, he was grimacing with pain.

Life is really strange when you think about it, if either one had been going a little slower they would probably have never met. Now they have plenty to talk about.

I was going to talk about food, but nothing tasted any good to me this morning so I will tell you about my daughter instead. M. is five and has a real zest for life. One of her favourite things at the moment is a commercial on telly for a soft drink. In it a man is riding around town on a childs' scooter wearing only a helmut and a carry bag. Nothing else. M. calls him the nudie nudie man and will stop whatever she is doing to watch him. The music that accompanies the ad is Simon and Garfunkles' tune Feeling Groovy. So M. and I sit on the couch and sing it for all we are worth.

Slow down, you move too fast,
you've got to make the morning last,
just kicking down the cobblestones,
looking for fun and feeling groovy.

That feels better.
  posted at 7:38 am


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