Everyone else's woes, unwittingly triggering mine.
I can't not listen.
But the cost.  The cost.

In spite of the current glooms and despisings associated with my job, there's still a strange joy attached to my journey to work.

Particularly at this time of year, where everything's cold and clear, and the world smells of fallen leaves, that chance to be out walking, in the open air, with both a purpose and a destination, is a thing I look forward to at both ends of the day.

I'll miss it, when it's all over.

No more sunny smiles from Tarek in the AMT booth, as he hands over my latte and croissant.  No more settling down with my book in a comfy seat on the Chiltern Railway.  No more walking through Loudwater Village, past the laughing stream, the noise of the weir.  No more bracing climbs up the steep drive to Fennels Lodge, rewarded by the warm fug inside the front door.

No more comfy rut.

Assuming they pull their fingers out and actually decide something.

The scene at Liverpool Street Station this morning, as I crossed the concourse towards the Underground:

Half a dozen police, talking on radios.  An area cordoned off with blue and white tape. 

One of those folding screens that are put round hospital beds.  Presumably the intention was that it should mask the crime scene from public view.  Unfortunately, the fabric screen itself stands on wheeled legs 18 inches high, so there's a clear view underneath.  The presence of the screen merely draws the eye.  To the large puddle of blood.  Nothing else, but it's enough, of course.

We all walk past.  We look, we have little choice.  We keep walking. 

I can't find a shred of shock in me.  Have I grown so callous?

Had been doing quite well.  Developed a lot of coping strategies for recent emotional upsets, scar tissue seemed to be toughening nicely.

Coming in to work this morning, I could feel the pendulum swinging in the self-pity direction (it seems quite capable of that on its own), and I was proud of myself for choosing not to dwell on those things that upset me, in spite of a rather poor journey.  Arrived at the office in fairly good spirits.

And then I have a conversation which tips me straight over the edge. Here I am once again, John Nice-But-Not-Sexy.  John-Who-Wonders-What-The-Fuck-Mutual-Attraction-Feels-Like.

I guess it'll wear off.

There are (I may have said this before) few things in the world that I appreciate as much as good company.

An appreciative guest (who brings wine worthy of appreciation - yum!), who challenges and stretches my kitchen exploits, and is kind enough to compliment me on the outcome.  Who reads my cards with disarming charm.  Who leaves me their Season 7 Buffy boxset...

It's been a weekend of unusual solitude.  No bad thing, for a change.  The recent months of unaccustomed socialising, though lovely, do come at a price.  Not always been in the best place, mentally, and a weekend of enforced focusing on positive thoughts and "doing things round the house" has done me a power of good.

Wonder if it'll last?

So. 
You can't tell us what the redundancy package will be.
You can't tell us which posts will be moved to Zurich.
You can't tell us how many posts will be moved to Zurich.
You can't tell us what the relocation package would be for those people who do move.
You can't even tell us when you'll be able to tell us.

You can tell us that there will definitely be redundancies.

Well thanks a bunch.  That's real consultation.

And you think we're going to be doing much work in the next week or two, hmmm?

A casual observer might note three things:

1) It might have been better to sort out the details of what was going to happen before starting the "consultation" process.
2) The period between issuing the letter to us, thus officially starting the process, and the date when the yearly results would need to be ready in order to make the end of year deadline is... 30 days.
3) The legally required period for the consultation process to be completed is... 30 days.

Yes, I'm a cynic.

My prescience, though puny, is clearly as accurate as ever.

It's been a comofrtable rut, these last twelve and a half years.  Quite how I've survived this long I don't know, given my lack of any kind of belief in the company over the last few years, or any real effort or pride in my work.  Thought it would all have come back to bite me on the bum long since.

I'd also hoped that perhaps my house sale would finally get itself resolved (only two and a half years now!), and I'd be able to politely but firmly tell the powers-that-be where to stuff the job.

But no.

The third (and perhaps, always the most probable) path has placed itself at my feet, in the form of a UK-wide email.

"Notice of possible redundancies"

Strong probability that the UK office will be closed, some staff and facilities shipped off to either Zurich or the US, and the rest laid off.  I have this horrible suspicion they'll be trying to persuade me to take the BuildLab to Zurich.  I shall certainly refuse.  I wonder how that's seen, legally, in terms of their obligation to offer alternative employment within the company?

Interesting times ahead.

A curious (and lovely) moment of perfect balance last night.

I was completely at peace with two of my greatest friendships. 

Does that sound like a rather obvious thing?  Not to me. I know the feeling won't last - I was ever one for worry and neurosis - but for that one perfect singularity of contentment, I shall be forever grateful.