I have a thing about time. I don't like it. It rushes past, and never stops for a cup of tea. (I hold great stock in stopping for a cup of tea.) It is in fact, incredibly rude. It turns up without warning, leaves just as quickly and never so much as a by-your-by. It goes fast when you're having fun, slowly when you aren't, or you're waiting for work to end. That is just sheer cussedness. For some reason time doesn't like us either. Or at least me.
It also makes you a whole lot older, creeping up on you in the night. Now, this is fine the day before your 6th birthday. Even, I've noticed, the day before your 96th birthday. However, in between it isn't much appreciated. By pretty much anyone. I turn 20 in about a week, and quite frankly, I can't be bothered. It's not the fact that I'm another year older, or that fact that, yet again I haven't really done much with my year, although, what I have done this past year I am, on the whole, quite happy with. No. It is that fact that people want to make a fuss, and I just don't have time. And that is what it all boils down to in the end. Time. Time and it's inherent dislike of me. Now, if this sounds like I have a complex, then fine. Maybe I do. I do know that I have a thing about time though.
Now,if time wasn't around quite so often, I'd suggest that a bell was tied around it's neck to stop it creeping up on you, for in my opinion, bells do a lot to make a lot of things better. This may well be, in hindsight, why I became a morris dancer. The lure of bells became too much. That is, however, another story for another time. I'm afraid even I would get annoyed by the constant jingling if someone did manage to tie a bell around the neck of time. So another solution must be made. I will think about this, and I will come back with further ideas.
It also makes you a whole lot older, creeping up on you in the night. Now, this is fine the day before your 6th birthday. Even, I've noticed, the day before your 96th birthday. However, in between it isn't much appreciated. By pretty much anyone. I turn 20 in about a week, and quite frankly, I can't be bothered. It's not the fact that I'm another year older, or that fact that, yet again I haven't really done much with my year, although, what I have done this past year I am, on the whole, quite happy with. No. It is that fact that people want to make a fuss, and I just don't have time. And that is what it all boils down to in the end. Time. Time and it's inherent dislike of me. Now, if this sounds like I have a complex, then fine. Maybe I do. I do know that I have a thing about time though.
Now,if time wasn't around quite so often, I'd suggest that a bell was tied around it's neck to stop it creeping up on you, for in my opinion, bells do a lot to make a lot of things better. This may well be, in hindsight, why I became a morris dancer. The lure of bells became too much. That is, however, another story for another time. I'm afraid even I would get annoyed by the constant jingling if someone did manage to tie a bell around the neck of time. So another solution must be made. I will think about this, and I will come back with further ideas.
