Sunday, 27 March 2011
British Summer Time
It's ten to twelve, according to my newly adjusted clock. But it feels like an hour earlier. And this is just day one of BST. I'll be getting this time lag feeling all through the next few months.
One thing I've noticed as I get older is the clock changes are getting harder to deal with. At the other end of the year the hour lag makes for a long tedious day that seemingly never ends. But this Spring switch is harder. I don't like feeling late all the time. I don't like the clock nagging me to eat when I'm not hungry.
The funny thing is I don't remember it bothering me years ago. I suspect it's change that gets more uncomfortable. Any change. An elderly relative refuses to throw out his old clothes for this reason; he'd rather wear a threadbare, stretched-out-of-shape, decrepit old pullover that a spanking new one he just got for Christmas. It's familiar. With these layers of familiarity we line our comfortable ruts.
And that's what makes it harder to reach out and embrace the new as the years go by. The thrill of novelty is replaced by the fear of the unknown. I don't know what there is to fear about going to bed an hour earlier, but there it is.
Maybe I should keep the clocks at BST and shut the curtains and maybe the Rest of the World will forget me?
Labels: British Summer Time