A funny thing happened on the way home from jail yesterday. I looked out the car window and saw a guy toting an enormous wooden cross down the street. I’m talking three metres long by two metres wide and really thick. There weren’t any churches nearby. He didn’t look like a nut job. More like a nice, lost country boy, with his jeans and leather akubra. His destination remains a mystery, but it started me thinking about the quirky moments life throws at you. Like the time I looked in my rear-vision mirror in a busy Leichhardt street and saw two rabbits shagging on the bitumen. Or the day a clown in full regalia, driving a rainbow-hued clown car, chugged past me on the freeway. Not all the weirdness has involved cars and therefore can’t be blamed on exhaust-leak hallucinations. Like when I walked the “pilgrim trail” – which involves limping 400km across Spain and sleeping in dormitory-style accommodation with lots of farting Frenchmen – and saw a couple of fellow pilgrims staggering along with a two-metre-tall statue of the Virgin Mary. You’d catch glimpses of her head bobbing along above hedges along the route. Another couple decided a six-month-old baby was a good thing to strap to their chests for the journey. I thought that was more bizarre than the Virgin, even before I had kids. Post-kids I think it was complete madness. Exploring Vienna, I saw a guy trying to beat another guy up with a ladder. A big, long ladder. Not an easy thing to do, but he was giving it his best shot. Last week, I spotted a live prawn struggling along the pavement in Crows Nest. The logical side of my brain tells me he’d probably been emancipated from the fish tank of a nearby Chinese restaurant by a helpful toddler. However, I like to think he’d made the leap himself and crawled half a block on sheer bloody-mindedness. My point? Hmmmm … I don’t really have one. Other than that life is quirky. And I like it that way.
TONIGHT’S MENU: Leftover curry. All that work demanded a bulk lot.