On run from morning to night

Helen Perry

When a working woman’s day ends in a job well done there may be a sense of satisfaction. However, the hours between waking with the birds and finally sitting down with a brandy and dry to catch the late news can cut more ways that a patchwork quilt.

I sometimes wonder if my male colleagues have anywhere near as diverse a timetable as some women execs.

For example, take one day last month. Up a 6am, strip bed, throw on load of washing and throw back the first caffeine fix of the day.

Shower, dress, throw man about the house into the car and race from Pakuranga to private clinic in Epsom. Throw husband out of car, quick kiss and a hurried “good luck for your hernia surgery”. (Gone are the days when the little woman sat anxiously in the waiting room ready to mop the fevered brow when all was over).

Back to Pakuranga. Hang out washing, grab second caffeine fix. Tidy lounge – guest coming back after work to change before we attend a film premiere.

Dab on makeup, lock up house, race 10km to hairdresser then on to work by 8.30am or rather 8.39am to be precise.

Grab third caffeine fix; check emails – 70 new ones to plough through. Delete 30. Write half page article from previous evening’s interview then leave for Albany at 10.30am for meeting with correspondent at large. Caffeine fix number four.

Back to East Tamaki by one-ish. Clear emails and reply. The ‘leave the phone alone while driving’ law makes perfect sense but also means today’s technology marvels can’t help till I’m back at work.

Thereafter a couple of quick afternoon meetings, writing and organising page layouts for upcoming magazine publication. Oops 3.30pm, forgot the husband. Leap into car, race to Epsom to collect patient – isn’t laproscopic surgery a wonderful thing?