I can guarantee that there wont be a single parent on here among you all reading this who hasn’t heard the same wail from their various infants that I heard when mine were young, we had such conversations as…
Infant: Are we going on this trip or not?
Me: Yes, of course we’re going. It’s tomorrow.
Infant: But that’s ages away!
Or to put it another way, 24 hours is an eternity to wait if you’re an infant, I’m at the other end of the human time scale now. I get up on Monday morning eat my breakfast and lo and behold it’s Wednesday and by the time I’ve got used to it being Wednesday, it’s Friday! My time fairly rattles by.
Human understanding of speed seems to be relative. Most of my little relations are impatient for them, 24 hours is an impossibly long time. On the other hand, I could do with 48 hours in every day now, never mind 24! 24 hours are much too short.
How is it with you I wonder? Is there a perfect balance midway between 4 and 91, when time runs smoothly and predictably? I can’t say I’ve ever noticed it but maybe it happened when I was asleep, certainly dreams have a timescale entirely of their own.
‘Time is of the essence’ the lawyers say, which is one way of saying buck up for heavens sake!
Our dear Shakespeare said ‘love’s not times fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle’s compass come. Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom.’
Perhaps time is made of elastic and nobody’s ever told us! We need a whole lot of clocks don’t we.