A day in the life of Tom Bevan.

‘God will lead you, no matter what direction you choose to take the lord will lead you. Have faith in our saviour, for he will never let us down’. I woke up to these words at 5.50am, probably should have turned my TV off last night.. Early morning religion isn’t my cup of tea. Struggling to get back to sleep I wander into the kitchen and do what every male does multiple times an hour, open the fridge for a look. A left over chicken schnitzel from two nights ago. Two slices of bread, a bucket load of sauce, all good to go. Should I warm it up? Nooooo, takes too long. I’ll start that diet next week, yeah definitely next week. Easy. 

I’m up and awake now with half a kilo of chicken and bread swirling around my stomach. Switch the TV over from our preacher man to find the man we all aspire to become doing his thing. Karl Stefanovic. What a man. This guy makes inappropriate comments, thought Brazilians spoke Italian and laughs at inopportune times religiously. A modern day genius. Yet he is likeable and Australia just loves a lad. After watching Karl laugh and splutter through an hour or so of my highly exciting morning, I decide it’s probably time to get showered and ready to sort my day’s plans out…


After a shower, I put my trackpants and hoodie on and settle into some Breaking Bad Season 5. After some gripping box set TV, it appears to be lunch time. I open that fridge door for approximately the fifth time of the day, to find that to my dismay, there still isn’t any food in there. With my father’s bank card and my 18 year old sister’s car, I decide to go for a spin into Kingston. I go via the beach for a look, unsure what I was expecting, but a few dog walkers and a few hooded kids playing the ‘I’m too hard for school’ card. With only the elderly and the unemployed out and about at 11.30am on a Tuesday, it occurs to me that I should probably be a little more proactive in my pursuit of employment. That can wait until after lunch though. I nestle into a table on my own, dressed like I am actually important, sifting through the world news section of The Age paper. I order a cappuccino and a sun-dried tomato and feta sandwich. What an A-Grade flog. After wasting 45 minutes of my action packed day I decide that it is probably time to head back home and get that CV sorted. After a decent sized lunch, and an early morning rendezvous with my Christian beliefs, I fall asleep almost immediately on my return home.


After a 2 hour nap, I wake feeling like I’ve been on a month long bender with Charlie Sheen. I’m not sure the Spanish have really nailed it with that ‘siesta’ idea. It appears to be after 3pm and I really haven’t achieved a whole lot on this fine Tuesday. Oh well I have plenty of time for that serious business. 

I return from football training, sore and tired. That diet seems like an even better prospect now. Definitely next week. 


Dinner is on and it’s the usual large sized portions. After a regular sized slice of lasagne with some salad, I am still hungry. Same again, big slice of lasagne and a slight slice of guilt. I must have burnt off thousands of calories at footy, this won’t hurt. ‘IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT’. I know this but try to convince myself it’s okay. Next week, next week for sure.


With the usual garbage on TV at night, I head to bed. Surely people are getting sick of cooking and home renovation shows? Maybe it’s just me. I’d rather shoot myself in the head with Scotty Dare’s crossbow than watch an episode of ‘The Block’ or ‘Masterchef’ but each to their own I guess.


Falling in and out of consciousness whilst re-runs of Seinfeld play on my 10 year old TV, I think to myself, ‘I’ll definitely sort my CV out tomorrow, I’ll start eating healthy too, definitely’. All in all it’s been an exciting day in the life of myself. Everyone get to training, it’s a big year for the Knights and I might even get a job and get fit. Maybe. Out.


  Note- no offence intended with religious comments, simply a personal opinion.

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