Monday – The Overture (Maestoso)
The curtain rises, and the score begins with steady, determined chords. Monday is planning day, where the motifs of the week are laid down. Meetings cluster like brass fanfares, decisions gather like rolling timpani. It is fresh and expectant, but also weighty—anticipating all that is to come.
Tuesday – The Allegro (Con brio)
The tempo quickens. Tuesday is a productive movement, vigorous and bright. Meetings multiply, but they have purpose—they are the wind section driving the theme forward. The work is absorbing, teeth sink into the issues, and the harmonies build toward something strong and clear.
Wednesday – The Intermezzo (Andante tranquillo)
The music opens up into a spacious, contemplative movement. I often take leave here, dipping into leave accrued during the relentless COVID years when work consumed every hour. Now, I use this time for restoration—bush regeneration in the local national park or voluntary life story writing that preserves memory and meaning. This is a quiet, almost pastoral movement, like the orchestra pausing for breath, allowing personal interests to rise like solo instruments in the stillness.
Thursday – The Scherzo (Giocoso)
Thursday dances. It is creative and playful, but also grounded in family. The morning tea with my parents—now 95 and 91—has its own tenderness, like a duet of violins carrying a theme passed from one generation to the next. The monthly writing group adds new textures, fresh rhythms, the joy of crafting words in community. This day is lighter, melodic, alive.
Friday – The Andante (Con moto)
Friday is a quieter cadence, pulling the week’s strands together. Loose ends are tied up, files closed, conversations concluded. The rhythm slows, the interruptions thin. It is a gentle descent, the kind of music that steadies before the final chords of a movement.
Saturday – The Pastoral (Allegretto sereno)
The weekend arrives with outdoor motifs—mowing lawns in the morning, followed by lunch at a beachside café. Coffee by the ocean becomes a soft refrain, the waves keeping rhythm, the sea breeze carrying away fatigue. Saturday is a relaxation movement, designed to recharge body and spirit.
Sunday – The Finale (Adagio molto, con anima)
This is no triumphant fanfare but a profound stillness. This is about space and listening. Sunday is my spiritual recharge. Church in the morning is central—I listen closely, take notes, let the sermon echo inwardly long after the service ends. In the afternoon, I work with it as discipline: writing a poem shaped by what I’ve heard, turning reflection into verse. This is labour of a different kind, one that recharges the spiritual battery and deepens my faith. Sometimes there is a walk with the dog, or quiet time with family, or simply rest. Sunday is the deep organ chord of the week—resonant, sustaining, carrying into silence.
Coda
And then, as the music fades, the score loops back to the beginning. Monday will knock again, the overture rising once more. But with each turn of the symphony, the themes are renewed, the cadences deepened, and the rhythms of life carried forward.
The Afterword 
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