Inpursuitof

Time is a funny thing. No two pieces ever feel the same, or ever pass the same way. You could repeat the same day over and over again ad nauseum but no two will be twins. Some days draaaaaaaaaaaaggggg on and on into infinity, a long road stretching ahead of you at 11.30am. Today was one of those days, for sure. Other days it’s 4pm and you’ve barely had your first thought at less than 412mph.

I’m desperate for more time in the day, like everyone. I think about what I’d do if someone gave me an hour for free. (Ironically, if I made better use of the time I spent thinking about what I’d do if I had more time, I might actually have more time.) But today I remembered that a couple of months ago it was the opposite, I wanted less time, to feel like there was more in the day. What was a few hours without an objective felt like a whole term of Latin lessons. Summer term, no less, when the air is still and the teacher boring.

Too much time is a dangerous thing, especially too much time in your own head. So maybe it’s better to be buzzing about like a headless blue-arsed fly than languishing in the back of the cupboard of your brain with the mothballs and the retrospective. Maybe I moan too much.

I just wouldn’t mind that extra hour. Just sometimes. I could learn the violin.

1) Gilly on her birthday

2) a pound to Comic Relief

3) this guy asked for a pen on the train, desperate-like, smiled and proceeded to fervently do maths on his newspaper as though it was the only thing keeping him alive.