The elasticity of time

I was taking my unpatented hangover cure this morning, well I say hangover, it was more like ‘you had one glass of wine last night and now you’ve got a headache you cheap date you’, and it’s less of a cure and more of a strong cup of tea and a desert spoon of lemon curd, but hey, it works for me, and I got to thinking about the elasticity of time.

Sorry to get all existential on you (is this existential? Now that I’ve typed it I’m not so sure, will go and Google it and get back to you later), but time’s a tricky thing. You’ve got to keep and eye on it.  When my alarm went off this morning at 6am (I know, I’m mad getting up an hour before the rest of the house, but this is my little piece of time) I blinked and it was 6.30am. Where did that half hour go? See, time up to it’s old tricks again. One moment it’s dragging it’s heels like a schoolchild that doesn’t want to go to double Maths and the next it’s slipping through your fingers like silk. Everybody claims it as their own, we can save it and spend it, but nobody seems to have enough of it. It slows down at the dentist but speeds up at the cinema. Time loves to eat and drink – lunch time, tea time, dinner time, and my favourite, Pimms o’clock – and doesn’t mind getting wet at bath time, but seems to run around stark naked (there’s no getting dressed time, eh?). It has no beginning and no end but each of us can claim only a relatively small amount of it. Is it recycled I wonder?

Oh and by the way, I’ve checked, the elasticity of time isn’t existential. Just to let you know, in case you were wasting time wondering. Time for me to go.

I really shouldn’t have had that glass of wine.

Photo credit: Time by healingdream at freedigitalphotos.net