owlrigh

I worked for one week too many on Coral Trekker. For months before that last day every time we left harbour I would think that it wasn't long until Friday -- my afternoon off. The day would wear on and I'd think that it wasn't long until bedtime, that a sleep would make it all better -- tomorrow is another day, another day closer to freedom. As soon as I'd washed that last dish I would roll out my swag and try to usher passengers off to bed so that I could all the more quickly face the new day.

That last week wasn't like that, for all that I knew that when we pulled into the marina berth six days' hence it would be the last. A heavy pressure lay on my chest that morning. Even the thought that it was only six sleeps until the end did not work, although I rolled out my swag with the vague hope that in the morning the pressure would be gone.

( But it didn't. )