Tempus Fugit

Well, as of nearly two weeks ago, I am a year older …. again. Is it my imagination or do the 365 days, between each birthday, rush by quicker each year, the older you get? Are the sands of time trying to tell me something perhaps. Is the hole in life’s hourglass getting bigger or are the grains just getting smaller? What is it about time? When I was small those summer holidays almost seemed to drag along – the autumn term always appeared to be such a long way off as I set about writing the obligatory diary of events as instructed by my primary school headmistress. Mrs. Hempstead (and her spotty dog) used to demand (well no - her spotty dog didn't actually demand anything except perchance a pat on the head) a day by day account of her pupils’ activities during those hazy, summer days away from her beady eyes. Ha those endless scribblings of “My mum and I went shopping today”, or “We went to the park today to fly my kite”. I wonder if she really did read all those diaries on her charges’ return to their desks, smartly dressed in their brand new, clean winter uniforms (no, no not the desks - us children)?

I am sure I would never have written about flying my parachutist as I would probably not have a) known the word or b) been able to spell it. Do any of you remember those plastic chaps? Flimsy plastic moulded men, with ill-fitting and – usually- askew facial features where they had been stuck together slightly off centre, with a transparent plastic parachute affair attached to them by cotton. Skywards you threw them, and – with luck, and no interfering branches - they would fall to the ground with plastic stretched, slightly unconvincingly, out above them. Alarmingly, they did seem to fall to the ground at a rate of speed that I would not like to contemplate if undergoing the real thing; on top of which, they did seem to hit the ground with a resounding thud reminiscent of a few broken leg bones at the least. I think a lot of mine ended up being chewed actually – it was that kind of soft plastic that was comforting to gnaw on when a bit bored! Ah those halcyon days of youth.

Anyway, I have gone off on a tangent, as usual.

It was also Jon and my 1st wedding anniversary on Monday (paper I believe – hmm you can’t get many presents made of paper). I see from a website that the modern symbol is a clock – why may I ask? And why is that time thing looming its foreboding head again? Now more interesting - it also says that the gems associated with this anniversary are freshwater pearls. Uh hum – I wonder if ‘you know who’ will read this? Or am I supposed to get him some too? No surely not – can you imagine Jon wearing a freshwater pearl earring? Hmmm no – I don’t think so.

Have you seen this man? If you see him, do not approach him - he will scare the living daylights out of you with strange facial expressions.