Give me an hour...

We all lost an hour at the weekend but I think I know where mine went. Therefore it follows I know where to find it. But do I really want it? Well, it depends what type of hour has gone missing. In the last month I’ve been earning, on average, about nothing per hour, so if it’s a working hour, I may as well leave it where it is. But, as you may have seen from my last blog, I’m about to embark on a marketing campaign that is likely to make me millions. So if it’s a mind blowingly creative hour, it might be in my interests to retrieve it quickly.

I know what you’re thinking. We don’t ‘lose’ an hour, not really, because in the winter we get it back. That’s true, but we could all do something constructive with the winter hour we get back, if we wanted. We can’t when the clock flies forward, because it’s gone in an instant. Unless you know where it is, like I do.

Time is such an abstract thing. In truth we only got a uniform time because of the railways. It’s not easy to run a timetable in which each station runs on its own local time. Before railways, you popped down to the bottom of your garden, took a gander at your sundial and made a guess.

I spent an hour, of the un-lost variety, on the train recently. This is an hour I would have happily lost, as I suspect would the lady sitting opposite me reading ‘Overcoming Anxiety for Dummies.’ Now, I don’t know about you, but the quickest way to make me anxious would be to advertise to a train full of passengers that I was a dummy reading a book about how to overcome anxiety. She, on the other hand seemed oblivious to the irony, which either indicates the brilliance of the book or that she wrote it.

Talking of anxiety reminds me that I still haven’t heard from the agent, who by now, should have been literally begging me to sign up to her agency. This might be because she hasn’t yet read my work of literary munificence. Maybe she hasn’t had an hour to spare.

I know where she could get one…