I am not sure precisely when I realised something was amiss.
I was driving home from a meeting in Bury St Edmunds on Thursday evening, a longish journey but along roads I knew well, Radio 2 jangling in the background. I went through the Hatfield Tunnel, marvelling as I always do at the fact that the radio reception doesn’t cut out, before taking the slip lane towards the A414. Everything seemed normal.
At the roundabout, the traffic lights were out, but everyone was behaving decently and the traffic wasn’t especially heavy anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t think anything of it. But half a mile on, another set of lights weren’t working, and then another. Nor, when I came to consider it, were any of the street lamps on. A petrol station was in pitch darkness.
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