Sunday, the day of rest.
The sun has put in an appearance and here on the bench it’s really hot. Not summer ‘I’m going to die’ hot, but enough for a northerner like myself to think wistfully of summers past.
Too hot moved to secondary location.
You know the bells I Ruch chime 10 minutes early, it’s a little like an early warning system, it gives you a chance to consider wether you ‘ really’ want to get inside and sort out lunch? Do you think that a glass of wine at six is a good idea? I quite like it, it give all of the sentiment of the hour without any of that annoying accuracy that everyone craves these days.
Time is a funny thing, we’ve just put the clocks back (fall back everyone) thereby magicing an extra hours sleep for all those that don’t have a dog and to whom such changes matter not. All of a sudden the sun was wrong, daylight was early, the tides will be at a time you didn’t expect because the moon will be wrong as well. The universe by our view anyway will move back in time, in one huge grinding of its gears Einstein will be over ruled by society.
But then who decided what ten in the morning should look like anywho? I think ten in the morning should be a glorious hour welcomed with trumpets and banners, marching bands celebrating its habitual return and old men seated on rough chairs talking about how ten was always better in their day.
Whereas one in the afternoon is a sneaky hour, unlooked for it turns up and whispers in your ear. It’s very quiet and quite maudlin like the maiden aunt at your wedding, or the overweight policeman on his bike ‘ making enquies ‘ presumably into the current lack of policemen on bicycles.
Time eh, funny peculiar rather than ha ha but as Proust might have said ‘ pass the bottle Swany’.
Ruby&Ruch 