On Time

I've just set my wrist-watches to the 'right' time (GMT according to the World Service), followed by the timer on the DVD player, and finally the timer on the VCR in the back bedroom. By wrist-watches I'm referring to my prized (but cheap) Casio digital watches, one I that regularly wear on my wrist, the other - exactly the same brand (the one without a strap because the attachment broke beyond repair) - that resides on my bedside table. The one on the bedside table gains a little. Having not reset it for some three weeks it had gained three seconds. The one I wear loses at a faster rate. Today it was out by eleven seconds. The DVD player loses even faster and needed to be adjusted by half a minute or so. The VCR gains at a phenomenal rate and was around three minutes ahead today, but then I don't always include it in the ritual re-set, out of sight being reasonably out of mind.

Clearly there's more than a tiny measure of the obsessive about all this. But I find it useful, and not excessive. The usefulness lies in the fact that I find it comforting to foster the illusion of having some control over the temporal flow, and being on time for the odd bits of things you're expected to be on time for keeps life running reasonably smoothly. (Notice I associate being on time with the setting of the clocks. Possibly these activities run on different processes, but they feel the same to me.) And I'd argue it's not terribly obsessive as I don't feel the need to set the clocks every day, or even every week. Indeed I'm prepared to let the VCR clock run rampant - for a little while, anyway.

However, I'm keenly aware that not all the world shares my mild obsession and there are times I envy the bit that doesn't. It could well be that a healthy portion of sanity lies in that direction. But I suppose I'm too far gone to change - until I finally, irrevocably, inevitably, become unstuck in time.