overload

I rise at 5:15, wipe my eyes with a hot face-washer, and head for the 5:43 out of Croydon Station. I swap trains at Richmond and arrive on my Polish dentist’s Sandringham doorstep at seven. She ushers me in and I leave five minutes later with a remodelled denture and $380 less in my wallet.

Sandringham to our Collingwood office involves train and tram. I shoot into the dunny just after eight, grab today’s PD notes, buy a breakfast spanakopita at the Greek shop on Smith Street, leap on the jam-packed 86 to Docklands, then leg it up Spencer Street to the Independent Schools Victoria building in North Melbourne.

The PD runs from nine till three. I hike back to Southern Cross and catch the 3:15 to Castlemaine. Mike picks me up at 4:45 and drives us to the secondary college. I train 21 mentors till 8:45. One of the mentors, vivacious Virginia, wild white hair, brown lived-in face, about my age, drives me to the dark deserted station in her untidy old tray ute.

In answering her questions I tell her that for two months I thought I might end up sliding into retirement against my financial will. She says she knows what I mean. She’s an ex-journalist, land-care consultant over Hamilton way, struggling to cobble a working life together. She doesn’t say so, but had I not mentioned my good woman during the training, she’d invite me home and have her wicked way with me.

The train docks at Southern Cross at 10:30, the Lilydale at Croydon at 11:30. I climb onto an empty 366 bus. The driver says he saw me walking up the road, same time the previous evening. (On my way home from Ballarat). He clicks on the PA and asks customers to move up the back of the bus to free up some room. I thank him, tell him I’ll lie down and have a nap.

I feed the JRT, apologise to him, sit down and wonder how it comes to this, working days ending near midnight, working four days instead of three, commuting to the airport. Sydney next week.

I start this blog on 1 January to map my descent into the evening of my working life but find myself with barely a minute to put fingers on the keyboard. I’ve abandoned my tutoring of TZ; we couldn’t contrive contact over a month.

MM is enough to keep me occupied full-time, let alone three days a week. When the Ballarat and Castlemaine mentor sessions end on 28 May, I will undertake no more, let my business lapse. MM pays well, I like the people I work with, I like what we do, I begrudge nothing.

Rock on.