Dark mornings

Today was probably the last day this year I will walk to work in daylight. There was just that hint of blue in the sky at 6am, and a pale white band on the eastern horizon to help me see by. Tomorrow it will be pitch black (to my eyes, at least), and stay that way for my morning walks to work until March next year. The thought kinda depresses me. Colliding with lampposts and telegraph poles, missing kerbs and stumbling into inconsiderately parked cars will be my lot for the next six months. I could get a taxi, I know, and it's not just the expense that puts me off. There is a stubborn streak in me that impels me to get to work under my own steam . . . even if the prospect of it causes butterflies in my stomach.

Maybe.

The firm I work for has announced that redundancies will have to be made in two weeks. As soon as I read the memo on the notice board, I thought That's me gone. I've always felt reasonably secure, but for the past twelve months it has become apparent that only four mouldmakers are required by the new stripped-down company I work for. And I'm the fifth mouldmaker. I've been there 22 years, which would work out at a settlement of about £6000. Not much is it? And as for reemployment elsewhere, it's going to be an uphill struggle finding someone to take me on when I tell them - and I will have to tell them - that I effectively have less than ten years of 'useful' vision.

So those butterflies in my stomach at the prospect of stumbling to work for the next six months may be premature.