One more day

I have an hour before going over to the stadium and shooting the first dress rehearsal of the Closing Ceremony.

Despite forecasts and everyone’s conviction, it’s actually sunny and there’s very little wind. The same if forecast for tomorrow’s performance. The world may yet get to see the designs I have worked on for so long.

Not that anyone is paying much mind to the gig. The only topic of conversation is when your flight out is, and where you’ll be spending Christmas. That’s definitely what preoccupies Gen and I – with still such a large hurled in front of us, Saturday’s flight to luxury holiday Oman seems impossibly distant.

It can’t come soon enough – I basically have not had two days off in a row (also known as a weekend), since about March, except for 5 days in Central Australia just before coming here. Apart from some cursory trips to the city of Muscat and out into the wadihs in the mountains I fully intend to drink poolside pina coladas and eat bacon sandwiches for the 5 days we will be on holiday.

We will have one night back here in Doha on our way out, then back to Sydney for one night (hopefully we can convince people to stay out till late for their Christmas drinks and meet our tired souls somewhere nearby) before heading to Perth the next day. Sounds like a lot of flying.

I have cleaned out most of my desk, begun packing up my room, and backed up my harddrive. I am ready to get the hell out of this place. The same view from the same bus route morning and night. The same workmates at the office, on the bus and at home. Unfinished road works, piles of rubble, impossible logic, lost taxi drivers.