13th July - Where Did All The Time Go?

Let me take you back to the year 2003, I was 13 years old, and this is one of those random memories which inexplicably stay in your mind even though you know, deep down, it is not in any way particularly important. On this occasion, my English class and I were partaking in a spelling lesson in which the teacher would stand at the front of the class, reading words out loud, and we’d have to jot them down in our exercise books. As usual, Mr Literate (moi) over here was in a sassy mood, huffing, puffing, and eye-rolling at the lack of difficulty in such a challenge as Miss Pukaniak read out word after word which I’d already mastered at the age of 4 or 5. “Time,” she bellowed. That was one of the words she wanted us to spell (can you see why I was so frustrated now?). She would then give an example of the word in a sentence as so to give it context. “There is never enough time in the day”. My inner thoughts began to start a narrative. What’s she on about? If anything, there’s too much time in the day! But of course, I was 13 and hugely naive, because my life was so simple. She, on the other hand, was young in ‘teacher years’ (I’d guess about 23 or 24, most probably recently graduated). But certainly, by this age, one would assume she had responsibilities, some form of rent (unlikely a mortgage at this age, though who am I to assume?), a car, and - as it later transpired - a relationship, as she became ‘Mrs Clarke’ after marrying the Geography teacher of the same name. Ooooh, inter-occupational breeding!

But for me, life really didn’t feel ‘rushed’. School was 9am-3.30pm, which makes me think kids are pretty lazy, really. They’re all absolute part-timers. I’d get home, take a bath, and have some food, but I was never really one of those kids to be out playing with mates much, or venturing to street corners/parks/local shops. I’d play a good 70-80 minutes of football at school every day during break times (which, looking back, is mental. These days, 90 minutes a week and I need an ice-bath for 3 days), and that was as much socialising as I ever desired. So 4.30pm to about 11pm was time to kick back on classic Playstation 2 games, watch a few DVDs, or re-read through my pantheon of football books and magazines, collected in my bedroom cupboard. No clients to please, no social media messages to respond to, no emails to catch up on. Time was… Well, timeless. Whereas, these days, it’s quite the opposite. Being an adult means that every waking minute is spend engaged in some form of task, or feeling guilty during those minutes when you aren’t, because you aren’t. Now, I can see what Miss Pukaniak was eluding to. There really isn’t enough time. But back then, there was too much of it. The one question I have, still unanswered, is…

… Where did all the time go?