20 April 2006
Of time and socks
I remember a time when time lasted forever. Sundays particularly seemed to stretch into an infinity of boredom. Something happened, though. I must have wasted time, or spent it all, because it’s gone. There is no time for lazing around, no time for reading novels, not enough time for my work, no time at all for housework. Nights are gone in the blink of an eyelid, and days are over before they start. I still manage to steal some time, from an unknown source. I snatch a little here and there for Ice Age 2 with the Little One, or some long tea drinking with the Older Ones. Kate Thompson wrote a novel about some fairy people stealing time from our world, but I’m not sure I buy that; the kids and I think there is a locked room somewhere, probably in an alternate universe, where everything we ever lost could be found. The Big Sister’s black pebble, the Very Big Sister’s ring, the Little One’s lightsaber (don’t ask), the Big Brother’s keys (although they occasionally visit our universe, only to leave again), one million and five odd socks, and time. I have lost time, if you find it, please send it back.