In a contemplative mood, I visualise: work for another 5 to 10 years or more; then rough it out on a meagre age pension.
Alternatively, in view of the upcoming federal election, a political career sounds attractive, whether in the lower house or the senate.  Over the hill for an athlete but still in prime years for an MP, my time of reckoning may be dawning.  As for political experience, in our younger days, some friends and I, for a bit of fun, unofficially formed a hypothetical party, called the ‘Schnapps Party’.
With clairvoyant vision, I would promise to make the ‘Schnapps Party’ great again on 1 policy: a government funded schnapps allowance of 1 litre per household per week, faced in as a pilot program by 2024, later supplemented with a beer & wine allowance (one item per upcoming election), all this will be fully implemented by 2050.
I would run a good chance of getting elected, considering the nuclear disarmament party got in on only one policy, so do many independents. My chances are furthered by the fact of the situation, that there is no-one worth voting in but many to vote out.  Wearing the local football team’s jersey or the baseball team’s hat etc. for the usual popularity contest called election campaign, should easily swing some votes my way.
The Germans had and may still have a party that stands for equal rights for garden gnomes.  I should add: “End cruelty to garden Gnomes ”, after ‘Otto’ the garden gnome in my backyard was vandalised repeatedly by the crows and toddlers.  Considering the dominant presence of gnomes already in parliament, I would fit in perfectly, the downside being that equal rights would place politicians ‘on par’ with everyone else, losing their lurks and perks; there goes my retirement plan of a handsome political pension.
No worries, my cunning re-election strategy of 100 days of games and shows, fireworks and all, in the ‘Circus Maximus Australis’ sounds almost fool proof.  This would keep me sleeping on the back bench in parliament, in paid time, rather than at home for nothing.
Should I fail to deliver on my promises or become scandalised, there is always the prospect of landing a cosy ambassador’s job somewhere on the planet, as long as it’s not exactly, God forbid, Somalia or Syria. With an ever increasing life expectancy and the colonisation of the universe imminent who knows, I may even get, a bottle of duty free schnapps in the carry-on baggage, posted to become the first ambassador to Mars!

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