8.30am Wednesday as we headed to the surf the rest of the world it seemed was headed in the opposite direction. Toward the city. Toward cubicles. Passive aggressive office emails about the importance of washing your own mug. Notes in the cookie jar who ate the last monte carlo? The creepy guy from accounts. The asshole headmaster. The sociopathic receptionist. The boring landscape gardener. And there we were, boards strapped to the car. Thermos full of instant coffee that tasted like tomato soup. That Jimmy Barnes Saturday night song on Gold 104. A suspicion of industrial civilisation and a profound connect. I believe we had what is known as a counter cultural moment. The day after I was back at work but I’d had a glimpse of reality. I was at work but I was noticing the magpies and paying attention to the wind. I finished work and I rode home and dug up a metre squared of grass so that I can plant chives. People at my work think I’m simple because I surf. I think they might be right.