Time

This weekend was move the clocks weekend. Well actually, not so much moving the clocks but moving the time on the clocks. Isn't that just ridiculous. This time of year we loose an hour. One instant it's 01:00 in the morning and the next it's 02:00. Where did that hour go? Why did that hour go? These are important questions - For goodness sake that's a whole hour of sleep I lost just then. It wouldn't matter so much except that for me that's actually about 25% of my sleep for a day, on a good day maybe 33%.

I don't really see what relevance this lose an hour here, gain an hour there has any longer. Does it really make any difference to people. Do even the farmers care nowadays? I know that this morning, on the way to work, the streets were deserted - and cynical me thought that perhaps there is a whole population out there that did not remember to move their clocks. They managed to get through Sunday without noticing and woke up on Monday a whole hour later than they should have done.

Can you imagine the scene? Rouses from bed, switches on radio and half hears the time as 08:37. Goes into kitchen, switches on television. Notices, in an absent way that it's the wrong program. Looks at clock in bottom of screen. Not quite what was expected. Looks again more carefully. Goes pale, drops egg down front of shirt. Rushes upstairs puts on clean shirt but buttons it up one button out of sync. Dashes down stairs, switches off the cat and puts the television outside for the day. Runs down road to catch bus. Waits an age and swears a lot. Bus not running to time. Why? Because this is the bus driver and so should have been at the depot over an hour ago to collect bus to arrive at this stop for 08:45.

And so it goes on, a million micro catastrophes and maybe some larger ones, all because we want to play with time. You know what? In engineering we have a saying "If it ain't broke, don't fix it!" I think that applies to our amateur efforts to manipulate time too.

Plane Silly

Well, on my transport hobby horse again. I must be getting quite boring. But this time it's air travel. The question is; how to turn a non event into something vaguely interesting. It's Monday, the first day back to work after a few days off. During those few days I got a txt from work saying that I had to be in Livingston for a 10:00am meeting this Monday. "Ah, that's short notice" I exclaim to myself - or something along those lines, during which time the swear box got a couple of pounds richer. A quick web search demonstrates that I will need to be out of bed about 4am if I take plane from Heathrow, or if it's Gatwick I can have a relatively late departure from home of about 6:15. That's feasible - I might manage to wake for that. I check the web again, Hmmm doesn't look too clever, Gatwick are remodelling the North Terminal car park - so no parking there. But, transfer from South Terminal is quick and frequent so ....I ring the wonderful Amelia, our departmental secretary. She does some magic and lo and behold a few hours later electronically booked tickets appear in my e-mail. Thus far so good. And, come Sunday I manage to work my way through BA's eCheckin and pick my seats for outbound and return flights - and its a breeze. I'm feeling happy - I've just saved myself about 30mins of tedious queuing to collect tickets.

Monday morning; 5:30. I wake. I listen - it's raining. Hard! The prospect of a quick ride on the bike looks less than pleasant.Arriving with soaking wet clobber and nowhere to dry it - not a nice prospect. I wake my wife and beg a lift to the station to try and catch 6:14 train (47 minutes to Gatwick - 6:18 train 1hr 30mins; amazing what a difference those 4 minutes can make) credit where credit is due - she is happy to give a lift to the station. Come 6:10 we still haven't left the house, the 6:14 train looks unlikely, but the weather has improved to the extent I won't get soaked. I jump into the biker gear and leap on the bike. 30 minutes later Gatwick. I even find parking for the bike. And I make the transfer from South to North Terminals as planned. It's all going swimmingly.

Security. Ah, security! It's looking a little busy. I join the merry throng. We do a very slow conga through the tapes. Many people wave clear plastic bags full of colourful cosmetics - how festive. We wind down to the booth officials. I have a very dodgy picture taken as I pass through boarding control and on towards the metal/bomb detectors. I divest myself of mostly everything, including my jacket. I pass through, I fail, I get thoroughly patted down and have my belt, watch, cufflinks and motorbike boots examined. Boots cause a raised eyebrow, I explain that I'm not a goth and my bike is parked at the South Terminal - hence, also, the rather heavy jacket. I pass on through. Loads of time left, I stroll rather than rush to the boarding gate. I stroll rather rush onto the plane. I sit down. I relax. I look at my watch - 15 minutes to take off...... 5 minutes to take off .....2 minutes to take off. Announcement from captain - 'Sorry our plane is disintegrating as we sit here I have decided to delay take off until some engineers can be found to stick it back together'. Engineers arrive with parts, ETD is now 9:15 rather than 8:10. ...... I look at my watch 9:00 ...... 9:10. Another announcement from our esteemed captain - another delay, maybe the glue hadn't quite set or the part couldn't quite be hammered into place. Another hour sat here by the terminal. 10:15 - the captain announces we're OK to depart. Ah, only 2 hours late for the meeting then. Another delay, I would have decamped the plane.

Some hours and a meeting later, and now - here I sit in Edinburgh airport. As I type this, ominous announcements over the tannoy declare "Your attention please! The fire alarm has been activated in another area. Please remain where you are and await further announcements." I await the announcement that says "PANIC!!!!" At last boarding is called and we take our allotted seats. After a mere 1 hour extra delay, passenger missing error, we can depart - homeward bound at last!