I handed in my two weeks notice to quit at the pit today. It wasn’t hard but it has left me feeling terribly guilty and depressed for giving up a job I fought so hard to keep. Bloody pathetic really, but I felt it was time I put myself first for once. My marriage is well and truly on the rocks, though strangely Kath and me are getting on better than we have done for years. I am leaving for London after my final court appearance in Scotland next week. I had to hand in my notice so I can get some cash before I leave to keep me going until I can get my dole sorted out. Dole Not Coal.
My guilt is lessened by the fact that the strike is lost and will almost certainly end in the next couple of weeks. Everyone seems to think it is better to go back united than risk more men becoming scabs. One lad last week, who I have stood side by side with since day one, came to the soup kitchen, had his dinner and then went back to work! If things are that bad then perhaps we should make the best of it and go back with heads held high and dignity intact. I’m down but not quite out!