Three months before I retired, my manager asked whether I could leave sooner. I’d worked there for twenty-nine years. I started when the warehouse had no heating. By the time I left, machines did most of the lifting, and I trained the people who kept them running. Over the years, I’d missed birthdays, changed vacations, and answered calls halfway through Sunday dinner. The morning my wife went into labor, I worked half a shift before going to the hospital. I used to tell that story proudly. When I gave notice, I expected the last few months to feel strange. They did. I was still called over whenever something stopped working, but I no longer received invitations to the meetings about it. My replacement asked questions. I answered them, then wrote the answers down so he wouldn’t have to remember everything at once. One afternoon, I heard my manager telling him that my retirement would finally take a big expense off the department’s budget. I stayed late that evening finishing the troubleshooting notes. The young man hadn’t done anything wrong. I didn’t want him stuck on his own. Last Friday was my final day. HR sent a checklist: access card, locker key, company jacket. By the time I’d returned everything, my manager had already left. There was no gathering. A few people said, “Enjoy yourself,” as I passed. In the break room, I took my old mug from the cupboard. A new employee looked up. “You’re not supposed to take things from here.”

Senior doctors in England to strike for two days in November over pay dispute bbc.in/4zR4flR

Buckle the fuck up everyone The canary in the coal mine stopped singing

How did going to a UK cinema turn into a major financial investment? You buy one adult ticket for £14.50 A large popcorn is £7.50 A medium soft drink is £5.50 That’s £27.50 for one person to sit in the dark and watch 25 minutes of adverts before the film even starts. You can get two whole months of streaming services for the price of one bucket of salty popcorn.