March 27, 2012. No comments.
Time is all made up anyway. People used to run around London SELLING the time as a job you know. I mean – sunrise, sunset, midday, dusk – Great. But 7.17? What’s that about? It’s just a number. An agreed division designed by human beings, not an act of God. The way some people seem to think it is. Like punctuality is not everything it’s cracked up to be. Chill out why don’t you. And why should anyone be going to school or work in the dark, like Ever? It’s wrong. Dark is sleeping time. Animals know this. Not enough hours in the day to work? Do less! Do more when the days are longer. When you feel the sap and sinew rising…when the force that through the green fuse drives the flower…(Dylan, no not that one)…drives my red blood.
I’m quite cross about this whole Time thing. This contrived mathematical imposition on our natural inclinations.
Though of course I do concede that it is quite handy when you want to catch a train. And there is something terribly romantic about trains. *whistle blows* “Now approaching platform 1 is the 7.17 to Edinburgh”. It reeks of adventure, life stories, sorrowful leavings, chance encounters, sepia-tinted perfume adverts…..
And I do agree that it is also very useful when you want to meet up with other people for a chat. But what a shame that you have to “diary in” a window of 25 minutes 2 weeks after next, and if people are late you are fuming (even though you checked your emails whilst you were waiting) instead of something more like this:
“Let’s meet by the old church at sunset”
and when you get there you might have a little think, or say a prayer for your ailing aunt or perhaps daydream about the new young blacksmith….. *picture goes all wibbly wobbly* and soon enough the others arrive and you all head down the Rose & Crown til closing time, whenever that might be.