‘You know, Hannah, I don’t know what happens to the time – it just disappears,’ said Grandma, with a sigh, on Saturday evening. ‘There don’t seem to be enough hours in the day.’
‘Well…’ I laughed. ‘From my 23-year-old perspective, there seem to be far too many hours in the day!’
After a brief pause we discussed the exchange, which seemed to us like a role reversal, and chuckled about it. I wasn’t being completely serious, but there was an element of truth, particularly in this season.
I blame it on my strong desire to hibernate. Why, when the days are so short, do we have to get up in the dark, go out in the dark, come home in the dark, and carry on working in the dark? My body does not appreciate that the workday remains the same length regardless of the time of year!
I don’t really mind Winter. As someone who likes to be cosy at home, it suits me to hide away from the cold, sipping warm drinks – but, unfortunately, it’s not always possible. And that’s when the days seem to stretch on forever. I keep my brain going for far longer than it wants to, and force myself out of the house in what feels like the middle of the night, even though it’s only 5pm.
When I get home from lessons, or band (or both), I push myself to get other jobs done or fit in some study. However, without sunset as a guide, when does the day actually end? So, I just keep going…
It’s midnight before I know it. Perhaps it is me who puts too many hours in the day.