It’s that time of year again.
I mean the time when, by the time you’ve left school, the sky is slowly dimming and by the time you’ve reached your road, you have to walk quickly up it; your hand in your coat pocket and the sharp-edge, point of your key clenched firmly between your index and middle finger.
The time when every single footstep behind you in the almost-dark is a potential stalker slash murderer and the backstreet shortcut which is a faster walk seems to have somehow become more menacing.
The time when the cold numbs your hands when you are talking to your friend on the phone, holding it to your ear (sans gloves), simply so that they will know if anything happens to you. Or even when nobody is at the other end of the line.
The time when Tchaikovsky blocking out the world no longer seems like a good idea because then you won’t be able to hear the potential telling sounds around you. And Mozart is playing very silently in one, solitary earbud. Just one. Very quiety.
Oh the joys of winter.