Clocks

Doubtless, over the next couple of days someone will tell you “Don’t forget to put your clocks forward on Saturday night.”
At which point you’ll have to go through that stupid conversation where you have to say – because it’s the law – one of the following…
“Oh, is it forward or back? I can never remember.” Because even though you’ve been on the planet for some time now, you have mysteriously lost the ability to know how time works.
Or you’ll say…
“Oh yes, it’s Spring Forward, Fall Back.” The only time in your life you will ever refer to Autumn as “Fall” because you’ve inexplicably become an American and you dearly wish someone could have invented a phrase with “Autumn” in to make your English life easier.
Then you’re obliged to say: “Oh no, I’m gonna lose an hour’s sleep,” and then check that in your head to see if you have that right because you’re not entirely sure.
In short, the next couple of days is where everyone becomes an idiot regarding the concept of time.
You’ll come home after a Saturday night out and wonder why you’re watching Teleshopping instead of a re-run of The Sweeney.
I only have three clocks in my flat. Last spring, I put them all forward and couldn’t believe it took me an hour.
There’s always a clock that is difficult to reach, and you’ll find yourself clumsily stretching over the sofa to take it off the wall and, once reset, doing that frantic endless flailing arm movement as you blindly try to get it back on its tiny hook.
On Wednesday, you’ll notice a clock in the hallway that you haven’t reset and momentarily wonder if you can just leave it for six months?
And your excitement of looking forward to brighter evenings is always tempered by knowing that after just three months, from June 21st, the days will become incrementally darker because time flies.



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