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On this day, two years ago, it was my last day at work in London. My last day of train commuting into the city. The last day of walking past The Shard, over London Bridge, past The Monument. The last day of a lunchtime stroll past St Paul’s Cathedral, over the wobbly bridge, or past the Gherkin or the Globe Theatre, or Tower of London and Tower Bridge.


I don’t feel old enough for this statistic…. but I’d worked in international banking in London during five decades! I caught the end of the 70’s, starting work straight from school. Apart from a gap year in the mid 80’s, two short breaks for maternity leave in the 90’s, I had worked full time.

I was happy to take redundancy. I felt I was due a break, time to consider where we wanted the next phase of life to take us.

My daily commute is now a drive to work, twelve kilometers from one side of Hobart to the other. The office is in a residential verging on industrial area, with a freight transport company as our immediate neighbor. Lots of big trucks drive past.

I park the car on a side road and this week I noticed a new neighbour at number 44.


There are no historic buildings near the office but there are views of Mount Wellington and occasional rainbows.