Day 1

So, this is how it feels.

I am still working for Central Banking, part time now that my notice period has ended. When the new reporter starts I will be off properly, but for the time being I am working five-hour days. My first was today.

My five hours ran from 9.30 to 2.30, and when it got to half two I had to look at the clock three or four times before I believed it really was time to go. Everything feels strange: leaving in the middle of a working day; cycling home through daytime traffic, which has a slightly different feel to evening traffic even though it is just as dense; getting home to find the flat quiet and empty.

In a very small way, I imagine this is how it feels to get out of prison. My life for most of the last 20 years has been dictated by having to be here and do that at set times. Now I leave the office and disorganised time spools away from me like a dropped ball of wool.

It’s a scary feeling.

The sensation of being lost is all the worse because my grandmother, not an easy woman to subdue, was finally defeated today after many weeks in intensive care. She died in the early hours of the morning.