This morning I went down the doctor's to explain how work is getting on top of me. He didn't have the most recent reports from the hospital regarding my eyesight, but once I brought him up to date he seemed to think that a factory is not a safe place for me. And I agreed. So that's it. He signed me off the remaining seven weeks and I no longer have to serve out my redundancy period. I turned my last mould out on Friday without even knowing it. If I'd known I would have ... well, it wouldn't have made any difference, I suppose. Just feels odd, turning my back on a job after 22 years. There should have been some sort of little 'farewell'. Tomorrow I might don a flat cap and scarf and visit my old workmates, tell em how well I'm coping with retirement.
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