Dear Bloggers,
I have been working late the past few weeks and it is slowly but surely breaking me. Yes, I know, I am getting older and nothing in my life is going smoothly anymore. I curse at everyone
because I have become extremely tired and this is a side of myself that I know less about. In the years that I sailed I was also tired, the long days at sea are the most normal thing in the world. And yes, the salary made
up for a lot. The fourteen days off also helped me to recharge for the next shift. I have been in public transport since 2010 and as a driver you encounter more and more crazy situations and the fact that a number of colleagues
have gone to work elsewhere in the country does not really help. The flu epidemic is also making a lot of victims and the new generation thinks very differently about work and would rather not do it anymore. Because of all
the things that go wrong, such as not delivering equipment or delivering it too late and the failure of new vehicles that in my opinion had to be built too quickly, there are a lot of negative reactions from passengers.Yet
I can’t do anything about it and staying positive is an art in itself.
There is a word for that dull feeling with which I drag myself through the day: boredom. The things that need to be done, and there aren’t that many, I can do right away or postpone. Should I put the breakfast things in the dishwasher now or later? Should I watch the news now or should I save it for dessert after vacuuming? Besides, why would I vacuum? I did that yesterday, didn’t I? Or was it the day before yesterday? Everything can be done later, or this afternoon, or tomorrow, or not at all for that matter. First, coffee then. I sit at the kitchen table with a warm cup between my hands and look at the garden, which looks just as bleak as I feel. Boredom doesn’t suit me, I almost always have something to do. If I don’t have anything practical to do, I retreat with a book, nice and comfy in my lazy chair. How is it possible that that chair and that exciting book suddenly have no appeal anymore? I feel restless and lethargic at the same time. There is a word for that too, and I have felt that way before, when I was out of work for a while: useless. Keeping the house in order is a piece of cake without the care of children and pets.
Especially if, like me, you have no eye for dust. “Couldn’t you find the dust cloths?” Trientsje asked last week, while she wrote her name on the television cabinet with her index finger. “You know where they are, don’t you?”, I had snapped at her indignantly. Now I would have all the time in the world to dust the house from top to bottom. Today, tomorrow, every day from now on. The only thing is that I don’t feel like it at all. I get up, pour my cup full of coffee again, and try not to think about the dozens of cups that I used to fill every day until recently. And then suddenly the phone rings, I startle out of my daze of gloom and pick up. The number seems familiar to me somehow. Afterwards I just daydream about the long-gone times when I was at sea and yes, despite everything, I still enjoy what I do every day. I try to imagine how such a phone call would go?
“If you think I’m calling you because we can’t live without you, you better push me away right now!” I blink. I recognize her voice out of thousands. Am I just talking to my old boss on the phone? We’ve had a kind of love-hate relationship for years, but in a humorous way. “Did you hear what I said?” The voice on the other end again. No, I’m not mistaken. The woman who had to send me packing a few years ago because of a financial crisis in 2009 is calling me now. “Say something,” she says. “I have no idea what to say,” I answer. There’s a moment of silence. Then she continues: “You could say that you miss us........ Aren’t you terribly bored now that you’re on the bus? Or have you already looked for another job?” “No,” I say. “And now I have to figure out what question my ‘no’ is for?” Doubt strikes in my head. I don't miss the uncertainty, but I still miss the turbulent water. When it storms, I still long for the wild sea and I also cherish the somewhat scarier moments in my memory. "No," I answer again. I hear her sigh on the other side. "Okay, Jacob, the point is: we do miss you. So would you like to put on your coat and pack your bag now? Uh... please? It's quite busy and yes, we miss your cheerful and positive approach." I sink into a chair, my mobile still against my ear. "Are you still there?" I hear the impatience in her voice. "Yes," I say, "and what's more, I'm staying here too." I'm ready to spend the rest of my days on shore. Doing my rounds on the bus and being home every day also has its charm. My love for seafaring has cooled somewhat over the years and there is still a bit of 'brackish' water running through my veins. I like it here and I am still an old sailor but returning to the 'moving floor' those days are behind me.
The phone really rings our youngest daughter calls that her bus has not been showing up but the next one is already on its way so I don't have to come and get her anymore. Long live public transport.
The Old Sailor,
