Four little words

Some people live their lives just aching for those three little words. Me, I live my life in dread of four.

"Mike, can you extend?"

Which means you can forget the nice restful plans you had for after work, feet up in front of the telly, it's hit the fan, there's no crew coming on to relieve you and you'll be here until the work's done. Voluntary of course, and what's more we always do. Yesterday for instance, fourteen hours after wandering in, I'm still working hard. And eight hours after getting home, I'm due back at the coalface. Didn't have breakfast yesterday, so subsisted on a few quarter sandwiches donated to the troops from buffet procured for a high level boss's vist, until my boss sent out for pie and chips halfway through the job. This carbohydrate rush kept me going, and indeed fuelled me to what you might call an insane strength and aerobic workout in the dirtiest shed on the dock, so why my lungs didn't pack in is confusing to say the least. But oh my, today I'm sore. Everything aches.

So there's not much time to tell you about Sunday, which was a nice relaxing day; drove over to the middle part of the country and spent the day in the park with a mate, just dossing in the sun watching the world go by. How often do I get to do that? Not often, and I like it. Of course, there's plenty of opportunity for dossing in the rain, but it's just not the same....