The clock in my car used to be a few minutes fast. I liked that because, whenever I glanced at the clock, I knew I had those few minutes in hand. It didn't matter that I knew what time I'd left the house. I was away from home for several weeks when the clocks went forward this year and I asked my son to keep the car ticking over till I got back. When he picked me up from the airport on my return, in my car, he told me cheerfully that he'd put the hour on and "You'll be pleased to know, mum, I've put the minutes right for you! It was two or three minutes fast!"
Now, when I'm on my way somewhere, I can see the correct time and often feel under pressure. I keep wishing a magic fairy would restore my time cushion but I can't seem to justify doing it myself because....well, because I'd know I'd done it and it wouldn't be the same. How daft is that? ?
Shall we reboot our cartoons thread again? 😁
Another week, another Tory MP sex scandal!
To think that London, or anywhere else for that matter, does not belong to any one demographic