Jonathan Dodd‘s latest column. Guest opinion articles do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. Ed
I’ve always thought of myself as a fairly intelligent person. At least when I’m not wearing my big head or my fat head, both of which embarrass me quite regularly. I know there are things I’m good at and others that I frankly shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near. Without any scientific basis, I do actually subscribe to the theory that we’re all experts at some things and equally dimwits at others.
Twice a year this becomes a real issue for me, when the clocks change. Quite apart from the trouble and faffing it causes running around moving hands or digits forward or back, the whole thing just turns into soup in my head.
All the vice versas
I have trouble remembering whether the clocks go backwards or forwards, and whether that means I get more sleep or less (for one night only, thank goodness), and then I can’t remember whether the mornings are darker or lighter, and all the vice versas for the evening.
I try to think what time it would have been only the day before, and whether the day has moved forward or back, I get that awful feeling you sometimes experience in dreams, where you’re sliding irrevocably down a slope towards a cliff-edge, and everything you grab to slow you down just slips out of your hands. And over I go.
Every kind of cliff you might encounter
Luckily every kind of cliff you might encounter apart from real ones is strictly non-fatal – although usually embarrassing – so I pick myself up and trot off towards the next one. But I never seem to be able to remember from one clock-change to the next what actually happens, so the whole thing repeats itself every Spring and Autumn.
I know there are four possible solutions to this. One involves not having to change the clocks at all. I remember in the early 70s a thing called British Standard Time was introduced, which was British Summer Time the whole year round. It ran for three years, and was discontinued apparently because of annoyed farmers, even though a lot more Scottish children survived their journey home from school in the lighter afternoons. That would be my best solution.
When there was temporal freedom
The second thing that would help would be to change the clocks all the time. Perhaps every weekend. Then I’d get lots of practice and I wouldn’t forget how it worked during the next six months. I think it would be entertaining. We would never need to make excuses about being late. Or early. We could just blame the clocks.
I do know that every clock in the country used to run on local time until the railways were built. Then there was a creeping invasion of Railway Time across the country, guaranteeing that every town and village had clocks that showed the identical time to presumably one clock somewhere at the centre of things. I almost yearn for the old pre-railway times, when there was temporal freedom and nobody would bother if you changed your clock to whatever time you wanted.
Treated with the disrespect it deserves
The third solution would be of course to move somewhere where they don’t mess around with time, or even better where time itself is treated with the disrespect it deserves. I once spent an interesting three weeks on a small Caribbean island where nobody seemed to care.
When no car journey can go for more than seven miles it seems churlish to complain when a taxi takes half an hour to arrive. You could just as well walk to your destination. But I think I would miss Tesco, and the internet would probably be very slow.
The last solution would be to learn once-and-for-all how to do the clock-change elegantly. I know the old sayings, like – “Spring forwards, Fall backwards” – but I’m immune to them, they have no effect on me. There should be courses in this subject, and studies should be initiated into the best ways of coping with this disability. I’d like a counselling service please, and some recognition of the rights and disadvantages of the temporally-confused.
Supposedly to benefit the War Effort
You may scoff at the idea of disadvantages due to such a trivial thing as getting confused by changes to clocks, but all my life I have been called stupid because I can’t work this out. People look funny at me and suggest that I’m making it up, because otherwise I seem so normal and intelligent. It cuts to the quick, I can tell you, and my self-confidence has been dented on many an occasion by such cruel words.
Thank goodness I wasn’t alive during the Second World Was, when they moved the clocks back at least two hours, supposedly to benefit the War Effort.
Or was that two hours forwards?
If you have been, thank you for reading this.
Image: Nicksarebi under CC BY 2.0
Image: Verasgeek under CC BY 2.0
Image: Public Domain
Image: Public Domain
Image: prairiekittin under CC BY 2.0
Image: Public Domain
