Spring in Melbourne is heralded by a sense of relief – the aching cold slowly swapped for temperatures in the double digits, the grey gloom juxtaposed by the sudden blooming of wattle and other brilliant blossoms, and my seasonal depression alleviated by the beautiful sight of cyclists wearing helmets covered in gently waving and unfortunately ridiculous plastic tentacles.
Considering cyclists choose to wear Lycra in public, it’s clear they already have a rock-hard sense of confidence and a shaky relationship with dignity – but newcomers to our country surely have to wonder what could possibly possess them to cover their hats in brightly coloured and lethal-looking spikes, like an unholy union between the Wiggles and a Mad Max movie.
