Each bout leaves me gasping helplessly, eyes bugging, nose blocked like the emergency exit of an Indian cinema on fire. If I move about things aren’t too bad. So I’m OK when I wheel the Red Rocket onto the 9:02 out of Croydon. On the train my throat threatens constantly to erupt.
How will I MC tomorrow’s forum?
Finally the doors of the 10:15 to Bendigo peel back. Passengers select and occupy seats while I tether the steed in the bike bay. Then the announcement none of us wants to hear. The train will be replaced by buses because a rail is broken near Diggers Rest. Bikes can’t travel on buses.
We stumble and bumble our collective way to the bus bays several blocks away, but no buses, just the passengers from the 9:15, waiting. I about-face and head for home only to discover the vagaries of the new timetable: to wit, mid-morning trains to Lilydale don’t run through the loop.
Three trains later I’m on the Lilydale train using two mobile phones to right the ship. Gifts for speakers; the logo to the admin person making the badges; rearrange the parcel I’m taking to my daughter; contact each speaker for final briefings.
Dan pokes his head over the back fence and recommends an expectorant. My daughter says honey and lemon. Everyone has a suggestion. Everyone has good intentions and advice to offer, but none of it gets you upstairs at the Savoy.
Later my good woman pops in. She’s cruising the eastern suburbs supervising her team of psychologists. She brings goodwill, lavender, cough drops, cherry cake, and makes scalding caramel milk. She’s an angel.
Finally I lie down, but the sickness is upon me good and proper. I cough and spasm under the mohair rug and no sleep comes.
The V-Line website says that trains will run again in the afternoon and evening. I hope to be on the 8:15. I’ll sleep on the floor at my office.
It’s ten to four. Tomorrow afternoon at exactly ten to four I will walk to Bendigo Station and ride the 4:02 back home. The forum will be over. My head will throb, my throat will be raw, but I will have nothing to organise, no deadline, nothing to do but sleep, if I can, and plan Saturday’s ride into the Dandenongs.
Three trains later I’m on the Lilydale train using two mobile phones to right the ship. Gifts for speakers; the logo to the admin person making the badges; rearrange the parcel I’m taking to my daughter; contact each speaker for final briefings.
Dan pokes his head over the back fence and recommends an expectorant. My daughter says honey and lemon. Everyone has a suggestion. Everyone has good intentions and advice to offer, but none of it gets you upstairs at the Savoy.
Later my good woman pops in. She’s cruising the eastern suburbs supervising her team of psychologists. She brings goodwill, lavender, cough drops, cherry cake, and makes scalding caramel milk. She’s an angel.
Finally I lie down, but the sickness is upon me good and proper. I cough and spasm under the mohair rug and no sleep comes.
The V-Line website says that trains will run again in the afternoon and evening. I hope to be on the 8:15. I’ll sleep on the floor at my office.
It’s ten to four. Tomorrow afternoon at exactly ten to four I will walk to Bendigo Station and ride the 4:02 back home. The forum will be over. My head will throb, my throat will be raw, but I will have nothing to organise, no deadline, nothing to do but sleep, if I can, and plan Saturday’s ride into the Dandenongs.
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