Tuesday, 2 October 2012

2 October 2012 ~ ALL IN GOOD TIME; 1, 2…

2 October 2012 ~ ALL IN GOOD TIME; 1, 2…



Apparently the time is now.  As a young lad, when my mum would tell me to do something, she usually meant now.  Of course there were also times when the time isn’t now; it’s right now.  I learned a lot as a child.
Sometimes, I think it was to ensure I wasn’t lost in some sort of space-time continuum, assistance would be offered to encourage me in the pursuit of doing something now, or right now.  It involved the counting of numbers; but hearing the number ‘three’ was usually followed swiftly by some form of adult vocabularic verbage that didn’t involve numbers.  It was more like suggestively violent, ‘out-loud’ thoughts.
I can recall that old “you can’t leave the table until you’ve finished your dinner” parenting rule; and also wishing we had a dog.  Time, as a child, was of no consequence unless you were sitting alone at the dinner table with about three brussel sprouts on a plate to keep you company.  Interestingly enough, as an adult I have noticed that after a ‘few drinks’ I can pretty much eat things that I would normally not eat.  Now I am not saying that we should slip a few shots in to our kids’ but, in the pursuit of science, it would be an interesting finding if youngsters had a glass or three of wine at the dinner table and then you hear “Blimey, those brussels look a bit good.  Can you pass some over here please, dad?”
For me, time, as a child, was measured by my stomach and the street lights.  If my stomach growled then it was probably meal-time and if the lights came on it was time to be home.
Today, as a fifty-plus adult, I rely on digital time in many different time zones because of the nature of my work.  I rely on electronic prompts to do this and to do that because of the nature of my memory.
Oh, and I don’t think that, as parents, we ever employed the “you can’t leave the table…” rule.  Maybe the suggestive violence; but just a little!  But now my kids are adults in their own right; in fact my son, Martin, is bigger than me so I daren't talk back to him now.
Time flies and times have changed!

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