A little while back, one of the parents sent in a note asking if I could watch which book their child was selecting for extra reading as the recently chosen ghost story had resulted in a bit of a sleepless night. I really don’t blame this child – if I am honest, I am still scared of the dark. I’m not sure where this fear comes from or why it has persisted long past my childhood, but the fact remains – I hate having to switch off all the lights. And, if I’m home alone, I don’t. Add to this my obsession with Horatio Cane, the rest of the CSI crew, and all things murder-mystery as well as my recent devotion to Buffy the Vampire Slayer and it is not really surprising that I turn on all the lights at the first whisper of sunset, I use the torch on phone or my bedside light to go to the bathroom at night, and every now and then I jump to avoid the monsters under my bed.
Today, back at work after a blissfully relaxing half-term break, was my first experience with the Dark of English Winters. I know people keep telling me that real winter is still on its way, but it is cold and wet and dark already and I don’t really fancy it getting any worse. However, after the clocks went back last week the amount of daylight hours seems radically reduced and today was the first day (of what I’m told is to be many months) of going to and returning from work in the Dark. Given my ridiculously good hours, this is more depressing than anything else. This is certainly not going to help with my Dark-phobia. I also now get hungry for supper at 5pm. The bears are onto something, hibernation is looking good right now.