28. ENTIRELY LACKING CONTEXT...

Check that out. I wrote about both of these bikes a few weeks(?) back. I suspect if you go back and read those Blogs (go on – I dare you) you will probably end up scratching your heads, much as I did when I stumbled upon these photos whilst trawling through some of the less visited sections of my hard drive, and saying – ‘I do not recognise these from the descriptions given’.

Psychologists, because theirs is a bizarre and sadistic profession, have many times pointed out the unreliability of the average human being’s memory (I suspect mainly so they can present their findings as evidence when they end up in court for doing all those drugs they claim they only obtained for ‘research’).

I personally have been run through the whole ‘guy runs into your lecture then out again and NOW what colour underpants were poking out the top of his jeans’ experiment a number of times. Including once in the army, where I should have thought the actual question should have been – ‘How did that terrorist get through our security and into this lecture and furthermore – why didn’t any of you Officer Cadets waste him before he could leave?’

I would have sworn blind that that tricycle was a good deal smaller than that and the bicycle a good deal larger (I did get the colour right though). I am not surprised I have no memory of the clothes I am wearing as they clearly fall under the heading of traumatic memory loss (note also the lack of appropriate footwear and skull protection).

I have a similar relationship with hills. I will drive up a hill (and there are many around here) and think, this isn’t that steep, I might give this a go on my bike next week. Of course once the human powered transport gets halfway up the hill the brain perched atop it is making it quite clear that this hill is in fact a Bloody Big Hill and what the hell were you thinking attempting to drag me up it.

The actually quite reasonably sized hill is then pushed through the filter of my own poor fitness level and comes out the end as a mountain quite similar in size and shape to one of those Mega Volcanos on Mars into which you could apparently dump 1000 Melbourne Cricket Grounds (and perhaps a similar number of gum munching Australian Cricket players).

The really bizarre bit is how after a couple of weeks, my brain once again starts to think it might be a good idea to go up the hill again.

It’s all very curious and makes no kind of sense that I can think of except that I suspect without exactly this kind of brain based mind shenanigans no female in her right mind would never have a second child (certainly if the carry on involved in the production of my first is anything to go by).

Next. ...from whatever cave I have been banished to after that last comment gets around....