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One day, after the first light snow, we went down to have a look at Fly Creek which runs into the Batten Kill River at Greenwich.
It has shrunk to a bare trickle.
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The river itself is running very low.
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Usually the rocks are submerged and the water level reaches the bases of those trees.
Yet it seems not long ago that I wrote about floods.
Proving how suddenly change occurs!
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From the river, a good view of this sycamore. Another of my favourites.
Their bare bodies are so striking.
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On Monday, before the second snowfall, we made another trip to Clifton Park for that inconvenient middle-if-the-day appointment.
When I have treatments at the surgery centre, I am obliged to accept whatever I am given.
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We are morning people, preferring to get things done early thus leaving the afternoon free, but one should not be rigidly stuck with such habits.
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When I first took a job at the airport, I was assigned an afternoon shift, 1300 – 2100. I loved it because it meant I would avoid rush hour traffic and I could spend the morning at leisure.
Theoretically.
In the next bid I ended up on a 1500 – 2300 shift and found that I liked it even better because I could accomplish all sorts of tasks before work.
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There was no way I was ever going to work mornings with all those crazy am-shift people!
Morning shift and evening shift were forever blaming each other for things not done or mistakes made.
Human nature!
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Then horror upon horror, there was a strike. I’ve forgotten by who in particular, as in those days someone was always on strike. For the duration, many of the staff were laid off.
Luckily I had just enough seniority to remain, but I would have to work the morning shift.
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Other bumpees and I were very junior and viewed with disdain.
It felt like being back in boarding school again when we were scolded for not knowing that lunch breaks were at fixed times and that certain functions fell to certain people according to their rostered duties that day.
The commute back and forth was 30 miles of torture.
Fortunately, it did not last long.
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Now I was more convinced than ever that I would never take a day shift, even once it became an option.
How radically one can change!
Came a time when I was given a temporary position in another department. I was assigned revolving shifts, but having by then moved to Long Beach, traffic was not a problem.
It was my first experience of midnight shifts which some people chose voluntarily.
Shudder. They were awful.
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No matter how tired, I could never sleep during the day.
In the evening just as I was ready to fall down, I’d have to rally my act and drive to the airport.
At 4 am when I was at my lowest ebb, a cleaner would come around with their noisy vacuum cleaner and by 6, when my relief came on duty, I was collapsed in a heap, corpse-like.
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Perhaps that was why I found myself beginning to enjoy the morning shift.
Getting off work at 2 pm allowed me plenty of time for shopping or any of those other routine chores and furthermore it allowed me to attend concerts, go to the movies or get together with friends.
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My friend Tim is a great fan of classical music and we went regularly to performances at Lincoln Centre or Carnegie Hall.
So, when I returned to my regular job, I couldn’t wait for the next shift bid and the earlier the start, the better.
5 am to 1 pm was my favourite!
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Even when I was on duty at 6, I used to get up at 3.30, preferring to be in the office early to get a handle on anything that might be going wrong!
After that I lived in fear of being thrown back on the evening shift.
How had I ever coped with the utter bedlam that it was?
Crowds of passengers and total chaos.
When I started with the airline, we’d flown narrow-bodied aircraft with much smaller passenger loads and I had tolerated the comparatively minor drama that entailed.
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The advent of wide-bodied aircraft and the additional carriers we handled in the new terminal, along with the ever increasing security arrangements transformed our world into what often seemed like madness.
While it grew up around me, I hadn’t been too overwhelmed by it, but once I was out the thought of being forced to go back appalled me.
Luckily, this only happened once and for a duration of just one week which totally confirmed my feelings!
I once worked a 4 way shift with only 3 people.
First day, 1pm – 6pm
Second day 8am – 1pm, then 6pm -8am
Third day off then start again.
It wouldn’t be allowed now I’m sure. It was horrendous!
Yes, that sounds grim. We sometimes worked double shifts but then they had to pay!
I worked different shift rotas for 33 years. 22 as an EMT and 11 for the Police. I had to work rotating patterns of 8 hours and 10 hours combined and not just one permanent shift, so it was hard on the body. My favourite shift was when we changed the Police shifts to 12-hours and worked 0700-1900 or 1900-0700. That was because we got many more days off in between, so actually had time to do stuff before going back to work.
Best wishes, Pete.
It’s interesting to read how your choice of shifts has changed – perhaps just another testament to how adaptable one is, isn’t it? I am definitely a morning person (the earlier the better). When we have to go grocery shopping on a Saturday, we are always at the store early – especially to avoid the crowds – and by 12 noon everything is finished. But strangely enough, last Saturday, due to circumstances, we didn’t go to the shop until later in the afternoon … and then it was almost only me and Berto in the shop, which was great! Love your frosty photos.