WHERE DOES TIME GO?

I’ve been thinking a lot about the passage of time this week or so.  Since I last put pen to paper, or rather hand to keyboard, so much has happened in a short space of time; where to start?

The Monday after my charity sponsored walk seems good, being the beginning of the end (of term and one big part of my life).  Still sore of foot and heavy of head I made my way with my daughter to watch her son’s assembly about saving the planet and the environment and other such good and worthy things. Matthew is on the last lap of his first proper school year at one of the schools forming part of an Academy of which I am a Director. (or posh Governor in old parlance).  Being such an elevated personage I was given a comfy chair at the front and thoroughly enjoyed the lovely songs about being kind to one another, saving the polar bears, turning off taps properly and so forth.

My mind wandered to Matthew, singing away there, his little head so blonde you can see right through to his scalp.  I recalled every bit of his birth, popping out of my youngest child all gangly arms and legs and a startled expression, which he still has when seeing me. I’ve looked after and observed him a lot in his life, so I can see how those 5 years which fled by have gone into making him the lovely lad he is now.

The Tuesday was a sad day.  A popular teacher at the lead school in my Academy (attended by Luke another of my grandsons) sadly passed away last October. A huge shock for colleagues and pupils alike, being only in his late 40s and we all thought as fit as a flea, being a sports specialist as well as a mentor.  He had a heart attack whilst out jogging and left a lovely wife and three children, the youngest still at primary school.  Today was dubbed ‘Andreas Harrison Day’, and various sports took place in the morning in his honour, inaugurating what is to be an annual football tournament.  For me the highlight was a kite-flying by the whole school on the playing fields. Each class made kites and the air was full of them. A fund set up in his name to coach disadvantaged children around the world also got off to a great start. The school cooks cooked all his favourite things for lunch, so kids and adults alike had strange mixtures of lasagne, roast beef and potatoes, salad and chocolate brownies on their trays. Just for the day.

In the afternoon we had a special assembly with his wife and daughter cutting the ribbon on a special commemorative ‘thinking’  bench, the inscription on which reads ‘Our Take a Moment Bench in Memory of Andreas Harrison our mentor, coach and friend’. This was followed by all the kids singing and playing his favourite songs, and a street dance coaching session for all the children. I bet his family were wondering where all the time with their loved one had gone.  But in this case they could watch all these lovely children, from this rather deprived area, some smiling through tears, dancing their hearts out, knowing that some of Andreas’ time had gone to make each one of them what we saw before us.  He was very generous with his time, I am sure his family had to share him far too much as there was never enough time to go round. 

Hardly had time to recover from this emotionally charged day when on the Wednesday it was back to Matthew’s school for his sponsored walk. It was so hot (85 degrees in the shade) I thought my time was up after just one half mile circuit.  Then Thursday me and daughter had to drive over to assist Mother-in-law yet again.  This happens so often now I hardly remember all the occasions this happened since she had a leg amputated in February. I think they forget sometimes that Tempus Fugit and me and him indoors are also getting old! Another of my grandsons says we are now clickety-click. Time hardly touches us most of the time these days. 

Friday, back to other school for Luke’s fete.  Remember the old joke about fete worse than death?  Was quite good actually, very hot and only marred by Luke discovering that someone had taken one of his shoes on exiting the bouncy castle.  In fairness he had left his own shoe, exactly the same but wrong foot.  So we spent the rest of the afternoon looking for a boy walking funny. Then it was time to go home.

We thought we would have all the time in the world on Saturday, and maybe find some extra time to do some household things, neglected for so long as neither of us ever have time to do them. Wrong.  Mother in law took up most of the day, then the rest of the time we had to prepare our elderly bodies for our Great Nephew’s christening the next day, a long drive to what I consider ‘up north’ but is actually only Bedfordshire.  So time for an early night methought. Wrong again.  My days need stretching.

Is this time thing the origin of reincarnation, a sort of time Tardis, an annexe on one’s life?  Do we fit into our subsequent lives what we didn’t have time for before? If so, this is a useless exercise as people seldom remember their previous lives, so each life is probably as time-consuming and fraught as the previous one. So what’s the point? And what is the answer to ‘Where does time go?’? Answers on the back of a fag packet please (If you have time).