As if giving us four days holiday in the middle of March
wasn’t confusing enough they’ve only gone and changed the bloody clocks again!
Now not only do I not know what bloody day it is but I don’t even know if I
should be eating breakfast or lunch.
What day is it? No bloody idea.
What time is it? Haven’t a bloody clue.
Help me, help me, I’m melting. I feel like a chocolate clock
left out in the sunshine.
Of course there’s that whole thing about do they go back or
forward an hour? I’m never quite sure, always forgetting that we should spring into
spring and fall into autumn – or is it spring forward, fall backwards? I don’t
know. It could be something else altogether like Richard Of York Gave Battle In
Vane (is that rainbows?) or Men Very Easily Make a Jug Serve Useful Needs
[People] (order of the planets - is Pluto a planet again?), or even People
Desperately Need To See Pamela Anderson (some computer thing, although it
conjures up an interesting image).
It’s all very confusing. I don’t know if I’m late, or early,
on time, if it’s Friday, weekend, or a week next Tuesday. Should I eat
breakfast, lunch, tea, or dinner and should I be asleep or awake? I feel like I’m in an episode of Doctor Who
and falling down a Rabbit Hole.
When I woke up this morning I found that my alarm clock was
in ‘being right’ phase. Yes, it really was 6.30 and not the 5.30 (with another
potential couple of hours in bed) that I’ve grown accustomed to over the winter
months. I never change my alarm clock because I like knowing that I have a
sneaky sixty minutes or more to snuggle in bed on the cold and dark mornings.
Obviously the change did not exactly fill me with joy. I was already tired, the
result of staying up to until 1.00am watching bad films and running around the
house changing clocks and losing a full hour in the five minutes that it took
to do it; which hardly seems like a good deal.
Mind you, anything for the farmers, for they are blessed as
they plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land. They need that
extra hour in the evening (or is it in the morning?) to be able to see to milk their cows and hold up the
traffic with their tractors.
British bloody Summer Time. I wouldn’t mind but it doesn’t
exactly ring true given than most of our ‘’summers’ are one long extended rain
storm. Maybe we should change the name to British Flood Time because that seems
to be what happens during the summers these days. Oh for the days of
standpipes, hosepipe bans, and shared baths.
Oh well, there’s no use complaining I suppose. In a week or
so I’ll be used to this ‘new time’ again and stop knowingly saying ‘but it’s
really five o’clock’ at four in the afternoon. I may even know what day of the
week it is again or at least be able to differentiate one day from another by what’s
on the telly once the bank holidays are over.
Here’s a thought, do you think I can get away with moving
wine o’clock an hour or two forward?
Anne Donaldson on FB
ReplyDeleteSpring forward fall back and I wish someone had mentioned it to the dog, it's daylight o'clock and time you were up woof
Paul Whitehouse on FB
ReplyDeleteLove that illustration Andrew one of your best ever!
Andrew Height
DeleteThanks Paul. I've plenty of time to learn new ways of doing things.