An odyssey of drive-offs, spiked slurpees, stale sausage rolls and sleep-deprived madness.
David Goodwin survived weekend graveyards in servos for several interminable years: way too long to stay anything approaching sane. He is, thankfully, no longer a day-sleeper with a halogen tan, but still maintains a ruinous predilection for slurpees, chocolate Big Ms and sausage rolls with too much tomato sauce. He is a published poet, holds a Dual Advanced Diploma in Advertising and Marketing and, these days, revels in having a somewhat normal circadian rhythm.
