It was a damp morning as I left my home for work. The first glimmers of twilight are now visible even on overcast days like this. The usual crowd were there. The builder waiting for his mate to pick him up, leaning against the tool-shop window. The young lad dressed up for inclement weather striding up the hill energetically. The lady-owner of the flower shop at the bottom of the hill, beginning her daily round of smoking outside. The newsagent, who for some reason only seems communicative when you pick up a newspaper with the intent of paying for it. And lastly, but not least, the 'in-crowd' gathered around the burger van parked in a side street. Burgers for breakfast?

That said, all these people are essentially strangers. I pass them every morning but for one reason or another I don't talk to them as I stroll by. I ought to make some effort really because at the moment there isn't much in the way of human contact. Once again I was lost in the trenches of no-mans cardboard and set to work classifying and identifying endless rows of boxes. I cannot even begin to explain how mindlessly tedious this task is. After a while, you end up staring at the list of articles in your hand and fail completely to register it as writing.

The big event of the day was the collapse of one such pile of cartons. The first I knew was when a great weight pushed against my back. At the time I made some stupid sound, something like a hippo caught out by his less fussy mate in a rampant mood. Having realised I was propping up half a hundred-weight of jeans, I yelled out in Jeremy Clarkson style that I'd been killed.

"What are you doing back there?" Asked a manageress busy sorting desperately needed clothes a few rows away. Dying, actually. In case the message hadn't gotten across. With so little room to work in I was literally pushing up through fallen boxes. Such a cruel world. No-one cares.

Later J and I were chatting (mostly about my tragic death earlier - I am such a whinger sometimes) and we were caught by the boss, appearing with less than her usual cheeriness.

"I've got an emergency!" She declared, requesting that we immediately locate pyjamas at once. J made a witty comment that pyjamas weren't quite what he considered an emergency, compared to something like... say... An earthquake. My own comment was 'Pyjamas for Haiti'. That went down well. Okay, it was a bit crass, but I got an icy look from the boss that sent shivers down my nearly unemployed spine. It is a cruel world isn't it? With all the best intentions, we human beings do enjoy a spot of black humour now and then. Humour is in the ear of the listener.

Sunset of the Week

A lovely pastel sunset this evening. Yellows and oranges colouring the thin veil of cloud on the horizon and the greyer broken cloud beneath it. Nice.