Living in Joburg we never hear the trees. Know what I mean? Unless you live in a giant Westcliff estate or drive a convertible, the magical whooshing and plastic-y clicking sound of new, green leaves moving in the wind is not something we hear much. I realised this yesterday on a bike ride through the suburbs. High walls, clichéd barking dogs and beautiful spring trees, lining the streets and making their whooshing, clicking, rustling sound that gave me goose bumps and a warm heart. Ameezing.
Also, I own a skateboard helmet now. Safety first. Except when your head is so huge a bicycle helmet looks like a polystyrene growth on Paul the Alien. So now I wear a slightly less stylistically offensive skateboard helmet.