I'd returned to Bougainville Island to recapture some of the old esprit de corps-feeling of the early construction days, but this was boring, mundane 9-to-5 stuff performed in what was, for security reasons, a windowless office building akin to the Führer's Bunker.
So, despite its name, P.D.F. Holdings couldn't hold me and I was off again after just six months. In fact, I would've pulled the pin sooner had they not had to pull out my infected appendix at Arawa Hospital during Christmas 1973 which laid me up for a bit and delayed my departure.
And so, while I continued to travel the world, picking up jobs as I went, a fellow-accountant whom I befriended during that oh so brief time with P.D.F. Holdings, had to delay his departure for those usual constraints that afflict a typical accountant of his age: a wife, kids and a mortgage.
However, I am glad to report that he's made up for his past immobility by now constantly moving from place to place: Bribie Island, Coolan-gatta, Port Douglas, Mackay, Boyne Island, and recently Tannum Sands.
As he writes, "My main motivation is to avoid being stuck and doing the same thing day in and day out" which sounds like the very antithesis of what an accountant is and does. So he's finally turned the tables on me!
Why do I feel like I'm sitting in a restaurant with a meal before me and looking to all the other tables and wishing I had what they are having?
