A Week In Perth, Western Australia On A $53,000 Income

Occupation: PhD Candidate
Industry: Academia (Musicology)
Age: 24
Location: Perth, Western Australia
Income: $53,000 ($30,000 from my scholarship, $23,000 from my retail job, and I also have a casual teaching job).
Net Worth: $74,000 ($54,000 in savings, plus $20,000 in musical instruments, which are my most prized assets!).
Debt: $28,000 in HECS debt. I don't have to pay this back yet since my scholarship isn’t considered taxable income.
Paycheque Amount (Fortnightly): $2,710 ($1,150 from my scholarship, $860 from my retail job, and about $700 for my teaching side job).
Pronouns: She/Her

Rent: $1,120. I rent a one-bedroom flat by myself in a very fancy suburb that I feel I don't belong in.
Internet: $55
Phone: $25
Gas: $15
Electricity: $60
Petrol: $140
Groceries: Around $200
Spotify, Netflix, Stan, Disney+, Amazon Prime: $0 (Different family members pay for different subscriptions and we share them all under our family entertainment system)
Binge: $14 (My contribution to the family entertainment system)
Microsoft OneDrive: $3 
SmartRider (Public Transport): $0 (Covered by my parents, thank you!)
Car Insurance: $0 (Once again, covered by my amazing parents!)

Yes. I have a Bachelor of Arts with Honours, paid for through HECS. Luckily, my PhD scholarship includes a waiver of course costs, so this one is on Scott Morrison, baby!

My parents have always been frugal people, and that definitely rubbed off on me. I think it’s generational — my dad’s parents were poor-ish Italian immigrants and my mum was raised by a single mother, so my parents always treated every dollar as essential. Dad helped me learn about banking, saving and how to shop around for interest rates. Mum taught me about savvy shopping and how to always find the best deals. They’re my financial role models.

When I was 14, I was a dishwasher at a café where my older sister was the barista. It started off with working on Saturdays, then some after-school shifts, and after a few years, I too became a barista. I didn't leave the job until I was 19. The circle of life. I got the job because I wanted to have some money for a school trip — Mum and Dad generously paid for flights and accommodation, so I saved up for spending money.

No. We were always stable. My parents weren’t flashy spenders and always had some money for essentials. A dual-income household with public servant parents is probably the most stable it can get! I was 11 when the global financial crisis hit, but my parents kept their jobs and weren’t affected, so we were really lucky in that regard. When I started high school, I started becoming aware of just how much learning music can cost — between musical instruments, lesson costs, school music tours and camps, it was a lot. I was worried on behalf of my parents, but they never denied me any opportunities and were always incredibly supportive.

Constantly. I don’t have a stable, full-time job, and I’m trying to save as much money as possible. My family affectionately calls me a ‘money goblin’. I’m nearing the end of my three-year scholarship, I’ve just had a rent increase, and I see many career-associated costs on the horizon — international conferences, a new oboe and possibly further study.

Even though I have savings, I know how quickly they could be sunk into furthering my career, so I'm reluctant to relinquish them (they could be a budding house deposit!). I took on a retail job recently after swearing to dedicate more time to my research. I'm looking to move into a share house to cut down on costs, too. But money anxiety always seems to simmer away in the back of my mind. Sometimes, I envy my peers who moved into stable industries and have solid salaries as early twenty-somethings, but if I can swing this musicology thing eventually, it’ll all be worth it.

I moved out of home at 22, when I started my doctoral program. My parents have kindly helped me with a couple of expenses, such as public transport and car insurance. They've repeatedly told me that I can always move back home if my current living alone situation becomes too expensive. I’ve considered it, but I’m enjoying the freedom that comes with living by myself too much.

No. My mum received some money when her mum died from the sale of her house. I’m sure that affected our finances at the time, but I’ve never exactly received cash in hand.

7:00am — Alarm goes off. It’s raining outside and I'm so warm in my bed, I'm reluctant to leave it. I scroll through my phone and send my Wordle score to my siblings and aunty in our dedicated chat — 2/6! It was a fluke.

8:00am — Shower, skincare, neglect of breakfast. I consider popping some Nespresso shots in a KeepCup and taking it on the bus to uni, but masks are mandatory on public transport and that’s just one more dirty cup to clean later. I decide to buy a coffee at uni. I get rained on at the bus stop, but the bus comes quickly and I tag on. 

9:00am — I sign into the library and buy a coffee from the café ($4.20). I then go back and get a yoghurt cup ($6.60). The guy asks me if I want a spoon and I feel very smug when I reply I have one already from home. I hope I didn’t come across as annoying. $10.80

9:30am — Time to work. I’m teaching a semester of music history this year. It's pretty good because it's paid work and I already taught this unit last year, so all I have to do is update some of the lectures, re-record them, and pop them online. Everything is online at the moment, but we can still come onto campus if we’re masked and vaccinated. 

12:00pm — This yoghurt is slow going. I don’t think it’s healthy to nurse this type of meal. For a bit of procrastination, I Google share houses in the city to gauge the prices and types of properties available. I don’t know what exactly I’m looking for, but something around the $200 mark would be nice. It’s just window shopping at this point — my lease doesn’t expire until July. 

2:00pm — The yoghurt was a filling brunch, but I feel a little snacky, so I have a caramel Tim Tam from a packet I keep stashed in my office. My office is on a silent floor in the library, and the crinkle that the plastic packaging makes feels criminal.  

5:00pm — I can tell I’m nearing the end of my concentration supply for the day when I reread the same paragraph about Bruckner three times and still don't understand it. I catch the bus, which is luckily not too crowded, and head home. 

5:30pm — I’ve been really into early dinners lately. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m impatient and love to eat, or because I’m eating an early lunch and my body is out of whack. I reheat some leftover chicken stew and mashed potato (it was meant to be Coq au Vin, but I don’t think this would pass in a French household!), defrost some bread for scooping and bowl cleaning, and pour a massive glass of SodaStream sparkling water. I’ve been bingeing old episodes of Big Fat Quiz, so I watch an episode from early 2020 while I eat and marvel at how that was two whole years ago and how Richard Ayoade doesn’t age. 

6:00pm — Once I’m fed and watered, I begin to notice a tickle in my throat. Oh no. A week and a half ago, I worked with a girl who was Covid-positive. I’ve taken a few rapid antigen tests since (all negative, thankfully!), but I can’t help feeling paranoid. I figure I don’t have anywhere to be for the next 48 hours, so I drive ten minutes to the free testing clinic near the university for a PCR test. I can work from home while I wait for the results, and the security of this test compared to the RAT puts me at ease. 

6:15pm — There are a good number of people waiting to be tested when I arrive. I take a number, sit down, and scroll through my phone before remembering I have a sample of the new Rebecca Serle book in my Books app. I buy the whole book and read while I wait. $12.99

7:30pm — I’m called to be swabbed. I'm in and out in less than five minutes. The nurses and staff look stressed, and they’re trying to get everyone tested before they close at 8. I’m lucky I came when I did. I pay for parking ($7) and drive home. $7

8:00pm — I have a slice of vegan brownie and finish my episode of Big Fat Quiz before scrolling through Amazon Prime for movies, settling on the Borat sequel. It’s good and the daughter has my heart, but I can feel tiredness setting in and I fall asleep halfway through on the couch. 

11:15pm — Oh no, it’s later than I thought! Napping before bed is such a bad habit of mine. I brush my teeth, wash my face, put a load of washing on and set the timer to start tomorrow morning, and put myself in my real bed. 

8:00am — I wake up to the sounds of my washing machine (a lovely, big, rumbly alarm!) and check my phone. I'm not surprised to see that there’s no text confirming my Covid status yet. That’s fine! I don’t mind staying inside at all. I have honey on toast for breakfast, two Nespresso pods (chocolate truffle flavour — sometimes I love it, sometimes I don't), and have a quick shower. 

9:00am — The washing machine has leaked and there’s water all over the bathroom floor. Argh! I notice the rubber seal on the front-loading door is out of place, so I fit it back on and pray this was a one-off incident. I hang out my washing, quickly mop my bathroom, and get ready to work on my lecture. 

10:00am — I've nearly finished my slide on Ernst Kurth and Bruckner’s Sixth Symphony ("musical form is felt, not retroactively analysed") when my ex texts me. We still chat occasionally. We’d been good friends since high school before we dated, and the breakup was healthy enough that we’re in a good place as friends now. He grumbles to me about his money problems, and I try to be sympathetic, but I no longer have the emotional bandwidth for this particular song and dance (again). I try to give him advice about perhaps finding another job with more hours, but I think I come across as lecture-y. I feel bad when I hang up. 

12:30pm — Cold chicken stew, minus mashed potatoes for lunch. It's actually amazing cold. I keep checking my phone for texts, but nothing. 

1:00pm — A package is delivered and left outside my door. It's a flowery top — an impulse purchase from Myer. I try it on but don’t love it. It was $20 and I bought it with a promotional voucher, but it looked so much better in the photo. Why does everything always look better in the photo?! 

3:00pm — Still no text from the Department of Health. I record some voiceovers for my lecture slides but keep messing up and having to start again. This is literally torturous. I hate the sound of my own voice. I wish I had come of age lecture-wise before the world ended. I could have delivered my lectures face-to-face and only gone through them once instead of painstakingly recording my own words. Yuck.  

5:30pm — I don’t finish the lecture but I’m thoroughly sick of speaking with a sore throat, so I power down my slideshow. I decide to chill out instead and text my sibling's group chat to see if anyone wants to visit my Animal Crossing island. My sister, J., got a Switch from her husband for Christmas last year and she’s enthusiastically jumped on the Animal Crossing bandwagon that my brother, A., and I are so very invested in. My brother texts to tell me that he’s about to see a concert — he recently moved back to Melbourne to continue his studies at ANAM (the Australian National Academy of Music) — and he’s a couple of hours ahead of us. My sister is free, so we FaceTime and run around our islands together and chat about her upcoming trip down south. It’s adorable. 

7:00pm — I’m not extremely hungry yet. I had a big lunch and haven’t moved around much, but I boil some pumpkin ravioli and make a burnt butter, sage and walnut sauce. It's delicious but sickening. I only eat half and put the rest away for later. 

8:00pm — This is when I would usually head back to uni to do some oboe practice. I love practising at night as there’s no one around and I can really clear my mind with a full day of tasks behind me. But I still can’t leave the flat, so I do some online shopping. I fill a cart of clothes at Princess Highway (a pinafore, some pants, and a dress) and a cart of skincare at Go-To (a couple of face masks and some face oil) before I decide to wait until I’ve been paid. I keep my tabs open so I can admire my choices, though. One of the best habits I’ve acquired in my time as a poor student is taking at least two days before buying something to make sure it’s not an impulse purchase. And one of the worst habits I’ve developed is obsessing over how much I need the stuff during those two days. 

9:30pm — With a tummy full of ravioli and dollar signs dancing behind my eyes, I brush my teeth, wash my face, slather on some night cream (Essano’s rosehip night crème) and head to bed. I read some Rebecca Serle and fall asleep. 

2:00am — A text comes in from the Department of Health. I don’t have Covid! I'm free to roam around as I please! I read the text half-asleep and fall back asleep instantly. 

7:00am — My alarm goes off. I scroll through Instagram and mentally prepare for my day. If I go home to my parent’s house, I can record my lectures there in suburban silence and do away with the trains and cars and sirens that always seem to whiz past my house. But I also need to practice, so I book a practice room for 8:30am and get ready to head to uni. I shower, brush my teeth, moisturise and grab a Carmen’s oat slice muesli bar on the way out.

8:00am — I put the oat slice on the passenger seat and forget about it instantly. The traffic is excellent, and I arrive at uni fast and pay for parking ($4). I grab a coffee ($4.20). I tend not to drink coffee before playing because it makes me jittery and it’s honestly not great for my reeds, but I decide that just this once is fine. $8.20

8:30am — I set up my oboe and get my reeds in order. I make my own reeds to save money — a fully-finished professional oboe reed costs about $40, but a piece of cane and a staple comes to about $8, plus staples are reusable! The cost is in the labour, and for good reason. Oboe reeds are a nightmare to make and get to a high standard. If you know an oboist, check in on them regularly as their reeds will no doubt be ruining their lives. I’m working through a shitty batch of Alliaud cane at the moment, and none of my Alliaud reeds sounds good, but I have another batch of cane from Le Roseau Chantant which is beautiful and works well with my setup. I work through some orchestral pieces for an upcoming gig and finish off with some Silvestrini etudes for fun. They are hard, and I don’t sound great, but they’re beautiful pieces. 

10:00am — I could only book a room for ninety minutes, so I head towards my parents' house. My dog is excited to see me, and my mum is working from home, so I give them both great big hugs. My mum hands me an avocado and tells me I can have it on toast if I like, which I do. 

10:30am — I decide I should order another batch of cane and peruse various oboe websites looking for the best deal. It is, as always, Le Roseau Chantant, but I leave my order in the cart for later. 

12:00pm — Recording here is so much easier than at home! Hooray! I manage to get the lecture finished and start the process of exporting and uploading. 

4:30pm — Mum has to go to the shops, so I go with her and have a look at the greatest place on Earth — Kmart. As an end of day treat, I buy a coffee and a citrus tart from The Coffee Club while Mum is in the post office ($11.20). The tart tastes stale and I'm gutted. It’s usually light and refreshing, but this is sticky and heavy and with a definite taste of fridge. I wander around Kmart afterwards looking at candles and stationery but can’t find anything to my liking, a rarity for my usual Kmart trip. $11.20

5:30pm — Mum and I get back to the house and I play with my dog until the roast chicken Mum has in the slow cooker is ready. Mum and I eat before Dad gets home: chicken, roast potatoes and a salad with avocado, tomato and cucumber. A full and hearty meal. 

7:00pm — I decide I’ll stay over since I have work tomorrow and the shop is close by. Dad comes home and all three of us (four, including the pup) watch a movie. The parents are snoozing on the couch almost instantly. 

10:00pm — I watch Daniel Radcliffe escape a South African prison to the sounds of a snoring parental unit and then I take myself off to bed. A modified skincare regime with the few things I brought with me, and a spare toothbrush donated kindly by a hotel my parents stayed at once, and I’m in bed and out cold. 

7:30am — It’s Saturday! Up and at ‘em. I shower, brush my teeth and think about the muesli bar hardening away in the sun on the front seat of my car. My parents are awake and bid me farewell on my way out and Mum hands me a banana for my breakfast. 

8:30am — I eat the muesli bar and forget the banana. 

9:00am — When I worked in hospitality and in cafes, I used to dread the weekend shifts. They were the busiest and we were always understaffed to cut costs. Now that I’m in retail (and musical instrument retail at that!), it’s an entirely different story. The customers are lovely, the team is small but never spread thin, the work is actually fun and even the busiest rushes are nothing compared to the sheer terror of an understaffed cafe. I spend the morning stocking the front display of woodwind accessories, tuning up violins and rosining up bows for customers. 

1:30pm — My co-workers and I generate a randomised list for the order of our lunch breaks, and I’m up second. I head to a nearby café and order a chicken sandwich and coffee ($16.20). It's an indulgent habit that I’ve unfortunately developed since working here. The coffee is insanely good, though. On my way back to the shop, I grab a massive bottle of Mount Franklin sparkling water from the IGA next door, which is always cheap but on sale today ($1.75). $17.95

2:00pm — The shop is quiet when I get back from my break, so I process some hire forms and do some lovely sit-down admin-type work — my favourite. 

5:00pm — The afternoon goes fast, despite the relative quiet. I drive home at the end of my shift and listen to an episode of the Ologies podcast (Alie Ward, I adore you!). I get home and thank my past self for saving half of the pumpkin ravioli. 

6:00pm — After I eat, I text my friend/oboe teacher/mentor, A., to see if she’s back in the city now that the borders are open. She replies fast and says yes, asking if I want to get gelato with her. I haven’t seen her in eight months and I love gelato, so we agree to meet at 7:30pm for our dessert and reunion.

7:30pm — She’s here! A. has a contract with the state orchestra and will be here for a good while, so I’m thrilled. I just adore her and look up to her so much. We get some gelato and she insists on paying. I order us coffees to repay her, but she waves her card across the machine and pays for that too. She’s extremely generous, but I feel bad, so I transfer her $12 and hope she doesn’t see it and send it back. $12

8:30pm — After our dessert, we head back to her place to make reeds and catch up. We’re up to our eyeballs in shitty reeds when her roommate comes home and offers us some wine. I have a glass and chat with both of them before realising that A. is probably exhausted from flying in this morning. I leave so she can rest. The wine is lovely and sits nicely with the gelato and ravioli in my stomach — my Italian roots are showing. 

11:00pm — Exhausted! Full! Happy! Teeth, quick face wash and bed. 

8:45am — I wake up after a deep, coma-like sleep. I have brunch plans with my best friend and a close friend from high school, so I leave the house without eating, fantasising about the menu as I drive. 

10:00am — The café is really crowded and I can only find a seat outside, which is fine because it’s less of a Covid risk. I’m the first to arrive, so I guard the table with my life until my best friend, J., rocks up, followed shortly by S.

J. and I studied music together throughout our undergraduate and honours degrees, and S. is a wonderful singer finding her way back into it after pursuing other things. J. and I ran into her at a concert where she sang like an angel and her brunch invitation has been a bright spot in my calendar in the weeks since. J. and S. have known each other a while through my ex, but hanging out as a trio feels as natural as anything. 

10:30am — I order French toast and a flat white ($23) and soak up the company of my two brilliant friends. The French toast is decadent and dessert-y and I feel sick after a bit. I need to remember to avoid whipped cream this early in the day. $23

12:00pm — J., S., and I make plans for wine and cheese in the next couple of weeks and I drive home with an entire afternoon on my hands. The weather is beautiful even though summer is technically over, so I decide to go to the beach while I can. I slip, slop, slap, and head out.

1:00pm — I walk to the beach with an episode of the Off Menu podcast in my ears. One of my headphones is broken and most of the sound only comes out from the left, but while the wires in the cords are still attached, so am I. The beach is packed as I walk up, more so than usual, and I’m perplexed. As I get closer to the foreshore I see weird signs and sculptures and I'm a bit confused before it finally clicks. It’s bloody Sculptures by the Sea! Fantastic. Brilliant art abounds, both on the grassy areas and on the sand, and I set my towel down near a full-scale set of football goals and some mirrors. The water is divine and I float with my feet up and enjoy it. Amphibian mode activated. I read somewhere that humans love being underwater because it triggers some vestigial impulse from our days as reptiles — water being a place of safety from the treacherous land. I don’t know if that’s true, but I always feel calm in the water. This is ironic because Perth is known for shark attacks. 

2:30pm — I’m done being an amphibian. I make my way towards the grass and lay down my towel for a bit of land-based relaxation. I listen to the Brahms violin concerto and read Tim Key’s Here We Go Round The Mulberry Bush and just enjoy the sun. Amazingly, this is all free. The beach, the sculptures, the vibes. I’m stupidly lucky to live here.

3:30pm — A. texts me and invites me to a recital this afternoon. I’m keen as a bean so I walk home with some more Brahms in my ears and get ready before heading out again. 

5:00pm — The recital seems to be ticketed, but A. thinks her friend who is performing has us on a list. I name-drop at the check-in desk and bluff my way into two free tickets — I have no idea if this is right. The recital is run by some club with ‘royal’ in the name and they make us stand up and sing God Save The Queen before the actual performance begins. It’s really weird and I am uncomfortable. I begin to feel less bad about the possible ticket scam I performed earlier. 

5:15pm — A.’s friend, and a former professor of mine, absolutely knocks it out of the park with his performance. Afterwards, A. suggests more gelato, but I’m starving for actual sustenance. We head into Subiaco where I order some fish and chips ($16.50), followed by some ice cream ($9.90). A. and I try to plan my next study move. She suggests a couple of teachers in different cities and I look into possible Master's courses for oboe performance. I should have done this all before my musicology PhD. My education timeline is a mess. $26.40

8:00pm — I drive A. back to hers to save her from catching a couple of trains. Then I head back to mine, with my head all over the place in terms of career progression. I still don’t know if I want to be an academic or a performer, or if I’m really good enough for either. My work hasn’t been published, I haven’t performed any major recitals, and I feel like when I concentrate on one, the other is always tugging at my sleeve, begging for attention. I always pictured having an academic post with freelance performance work on the side, but the effort required for just one of these pathways is massive and I don’t know how I’d balance two specialised areas that don’t really intersect in any meaningful way. Just gotta take it one day at a time, I guess. 

11:00pm — I get home, read in bed for a bit and turn in. 

8:00am — It’s a public holiday today, and I’m so wiped out from the weekend that I take it as a permissible lazy day. Honey and toast for breakfast — a winning combination. My ex texts me and asks how my weekend was, and we have a quick Facetime where we fill each other in on our last few days. I can tell that he values our friendship, and when it’s easy like this and I’m not performing unnecessary emotional labour, I value it too. 

9:00am — I notice that I’m running low on food so I decide to do a mini grocery dash. Salad, tomatoes, potatoes, cheese, bread — the essentials! Avocados are on sale, so I grab one. Lemons are not, and one of each turns out to be the same price. My friend M. always says that if you have to buy lemons, you don’t have any friends, and I cry internally at this. Then give me some lemons, bitch! I know your parents have a tree. $35.72

10:00am — I come home and do a bit of practice and reed-making, praying that my neighbours don’t mind the noise. I try not to practice at home since the acoustics are a bit weird and I am in a block of flats, but no one comes to my door demanding that the noises stop. A bit of Mozart, a bit of Strauss. A. thinks my oboe needs a service and I’m inclined to agree, so I decide to email a repair person tomorrow and get a date for a service. 

12:00pm — I’m not super hungry, so I have a ciabatta and Swiss cheese sandwich with some homemade pesto that I attempted last week. The pesto was made with what tastes like subpar pine nuts, but it still works with the Swiss cheese beautifully.

1:00pm — I get an email saying that my instrument insurance is due. My parents offered to pay since they paid for my brother, but I said I didn’t mind. I don’t want them to think I’m a leech! I transfer some money over and pay the bill ($360.71), feeling safe knowing that my instruments are protected. A peak lazy afternoon ensues. I read Rebecca Serle and Tim Key (I can never focus on just one book, it seems) and watch Big Fat Quiz. I adjust my cane order online and vow to return once I’ve been paid. I nap on the couch with the fan on and still wake up sweaty. It’s boiling outside and today would have been the perfect day to wash my sheets and get them all hung up in the sun, but I'm too lazy for life tasks. I am a gross sloth who is content to sleep in old sheets. $360.71

6:00pm — For dinner, I try to be healthy and make a new salad that I’ve discovered I love — tuna in olive oil, spinach, rocket, tomato, avocado and balsamic vinegar. The avocado and oil bring a butteriness to an otherwise acid-heavy meal, and the flavour combinations are too good. I need to make this more often. 

8:00pm — I debate going for a walk once I’ve digested my dinner, but I decide that my lazy afternoon should turn into a lazy night. I watch Shiva Baby on Binge (fantastic!) while I chug sparkling water and enjoy the fan. 

10:00pm — I decide to do a proper skincare routine before bed — double cleanse, exfoliate, clay mask and night cream. I think my period’s coming because I spot a pimple on my jaw that wasn’t there yesterday. Excuse me, sir, how did you get into this building? Teeth, bed, and I’m out. 

7:00am — I wake up feeling not very rested for no discernible reason. Yuck. I scroll through Instagram and try to get my eyes acclimatised to being open. 

8:00am — Shower, teeth, skincare. It’s going to be hot today, so I wear a breezy dress that’s work-appropriate and comfortable. Before I leave the house, I put two Nespresso pods in a KeepCup, fill it with almond milk, and grab an oat muesli bar for the drive to work. 

8:45am — Before my shift starts, I run to the IGA and buy a pumpkin and beetroot salad and a croissant ($9.18). The croissant looks amazing, but I’m worried if I leave it in the staffroom the ants might get into it, which happened to a co-worker of mine last week. Surely if I leave it in my bag it will be safe? $9.18

9:00am — I get to work, and everyone is really quiet. I think we’re all a bit tired. I get stuck in and run some inventory counts. 

1:00pm — Before I go on lunch, I buy a massive coffee from the café in the shopping complex ($5.50). I feel exhausted and I don’t know why. The coffee perks me up considerably, but when I go to get my lunch, I see ants all over my croissant and in my bag. This is devastating. I empty out my bag, bug spray it and splash it with the hose. Damn ants. $5.50

5:00pm — An uneventful workday comes to a close and I drive home. For an early dinner, I defrost some salmon, slice up the expensive lemon I bought, open a bottle of white wine, and make a lemon salmon sauce to go with some fusilli pasta. It’s not bad at all, but I probably could have sprung for two salmon fillets to beef it up. While I eat, I text my siblings. My sister is out playing tennis with our mum and my brother is in the process of buying a new TV. With one always busy and one in another state, I miss them both so much.

7:00pm — I go to uni to practice. Strauss, Silvestrini, Mozart. Reeds, reeds, reeds. It never ends.

10:00pm — I drive home listening to the Ologies podcast and daydreaming about buying a new oboe. I’ve only ever had second-hand instruments. I wonder if a brand new oboe would fix all the problems I have (it wouldn’t — but improved technique would!). 

11:00pm — I brush my teeth, wash my face and head to bed. I finish off the Rebecca Serle book I bought earlier in the week. I didn’t love it as much as her other work. I doze off and fall asleep.