There are mornings when ...

I wish I hadn't been riding on the back of the youth group leader's motorbike that day he crashed into the stationary car at over 100km per hour.

I'm glad that we lived.
We were lucky but this morning my body remembers.

I remember the doctor's surprise after the ambulance folk handed me over. He said, 'You've been very lucky, nothing's broken ... however, you will ache more as you get older, you took some impressive knocks'.

I lay in bed for days, waiting for the swelling in my legs to go down, most particularly my knees ... devastated that I couldn't go to a concert; devastated as you can only be at 17 when a concert seems like the most important thing.

I hated the whiplash collar I wore for weeks afterwards but 'older' was a long way away and perhaps I didn't believe him.

Just lately, my body has been on a journey of remembering, or so it feels.

A friend had come to me on the morning of the big motorbike trip, I remember that too. He had borrowed his brother's serious motorbike leathers ... he made me dress in basic clothes, then layered me up. I think it was 1 pair of normal socks, 1 pair of thick socks, and then his brother's fabulous leather motorbike boots.

The impact of the crash meant I had cuts on my feet through all of the layers. Thank you Andrew Finnie, for my feet.

Goodness knows what else he saved with his concern for a friend on that day way back when ...

Like cat who has found a place in the sun, I might sit here at the desk for just a little longer this morning and work out a plan for reclaiming this winter stiffened body of mine.

Tot straks.