Take last Friday for instance. In effect it was my last day at work. After two months of getting up early, long days (thankless days with little or no credit for my undertaking) and constant networking in the evening it was finally time to pack up and go home.
If Boyz to Men had been in the country they'd no doubt have been at the foot of my bed when I awoke. As it was they weren't. And so, alone, and for the final time, my first action was to pull back the curtains and look skywards for an indication of what weather the day would bring.
Curse those trees, those beautiful, elegant trees, for blocking my view of what I hoped was blue sky and golden sun. At least they couldn't cover up the tranquil sound of the estuary water lapping against the shore, the chattering birds and wind rustling through the foliage.
After a leisurely shower I set off and soon realised I was running late. I therefore should probably not have bothered taking a photo of the driveway and its steep incline. Especially after I got half way up and remembered I'd left my bus ticket in my other shorts.
Ten minutes later I arrived at the bus stop sweating heavily and anxious that I hadn't missed my hourly bus. It would not be wise to arrive late on my last day at work. Thankfully the bus hadn't yet arrived and the queue yet to reach London rush-hour levels of ramajam.
And there were few people at the ferry terminal for my second mode of transport. Maybe scared off by the threat of showers, I reasoned.
As is my custom I sat down on one of the seats on deck to read the local paper. The frong page made interesting reading.
As did the back.
The weather had worsened by the time I reached Circular Quay and sadly forced me to put away my newspaper. Honestly, how have I put up with such conditons for so many months? How I long for a short walk along crowded London streets and being tightly (yet cosily) squeezed into a comfy tubed train to the office in the morning!
Thankfully by the time I got off the ferry the conditions had eased and I quickly noted that unlike the previous four days it appeared very few of those awaiting the bus were of Australian descent. As I stopped off for my customary coffee I could not fathom why.
The bus always drops my off a five minute walk from my workplace so I fought my way through the crowds and made my way up to level seven where my officeplace awaits. As is the norm my co-workers were indifferent to my presence.
As it was my last day I wasted no time with pleasantries and disappeared out of the office. Nobody would miss me today of all days. And it is the mark of the man that my father had made the 12,000 mile journey across land and sea to wish me well on my final day.
Despite rain bring a halt to proceedings for a short while it wasn't enough to stop the good times. Here, for some reason is a picture of Steve Smith getting hit by a short ball from Jimmy Anderson.
I'd be lying if I were to say that I hadn't expected my work mates to make some effort to mark my last day in the office. But it's fair to say that the guys really outdid themselves this time. As fireworks displays go it's not quite Sydney Harbour but I appreciated the effort.
And for those of you still interested in what up to now has been nothing more than a humdrum day here are a selection of what else happened on my last day before a well earned break.
And before I knew it a day I'd spent many years dreaming about had come to an end. Only time will tell whether I ever step foot in the SCG doors again. But that's to decide upon sometime in the future. For now it's time to kick back and relax. A well deserved four week holiday awaits.
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