One of the strangest things about getting older is the shifting of responsibility. Growing up, you have practically none, or at least, as little as possible. You get to roam free, to do whatever you want, there are no consequences. Then you move out of being a kid and, slowly, into being an adult. Things change. You’re expected to do a little more around the house, if you make a mistake you need to take on the blame. Those free passes that, once upon a time, were given out for everything become increasingly restricted. Then things escalate. You get a job, move out of home, have to pay taxes and finally everything is down to you. Some find it freeing. Others, overwhelming. For my part I have to say it was a combination of the two. After you’ve practised at being an adult for a while, there’s one final change that occurs. Things move in reverse. All of a sudden, people expect you to take care of them.

One of those whiplash kind of moments happened to me about two years ago when I realised that my own mother, a paradigm of independence, was struggling under the weight of it all. That’s just one of those things that happens with age, I guess. I fly back into Melbourne for a couple of weeks, took the trip out to her place, and realised it was falling apart. The old polystyrene wall cladding on her walls was practically falling apart, one of the floorboards was almost broken, three lights were out. It was clear to me that, at some level, she was unable to be responsible for herself. So a part of that weight fell onto my shoulders. I called a rendering company on the Mornington peninsula, got in touch with a carpenter, extended my stay so that I could look after my mum the way she had looked after me. In the end, everything in life always goes full circle.