Time

I woke this morning thinking how lovely it’d be to turn back the clock to a time before COVID-19’s unwelcome appearance. A notion manifesting from recollections that overnight UK clocks’d moved forward from Greenwich Meantime (GMT) to British Summer Time (BST).

Among the timepieces being moved sixty minutes hence, the town hall clocks residing in the Yorkshire town of Clackfield’s Victorian clock tower. These four clock faces, standing proudly several metres above it’s passing townsfolk, have all stopped at various junctures without repair; consequently, all exhibiting conflicting times.

From the north side of the tower, clockwise round to the western facade, the quartet of horological displays showing times of 8.17; 3.14; 10.32 and 11.49 respectively. However, from 2am on Sunday town hall maintenance men will shuffle forward these chronometers to (still incorrectly) alert citizens a local time of 9.17; 4.14; 11.32 or 12.49.

Some may question what’s the point of moving a clock forward an hour when the flipping thing doesn’t work. An inquiry cash strapped Clackfield District Council leader Horst Chestnut-Tree responds to with claims that, although unable to afford town hall clock tower renovations, councillors are resolved to uphold traditional daylight saving time edicts.

There’s an oft used adage telling that a stopped clock is at least right twice a day. I suppose the cash strapped Clackfield District Council may argue one of their four town hall tower in situ timepieces provide townsfolk with the correct time at least eight times per day.

Winners of the ‘Least Punctual Town in Britain’ for the past twelve years, Clackfieldians tardy timekeeping is legendary around the West Yorkshire/East Lancashire borders. Not that it fazes townsfolk, who’re hugely proud they receive the greeting “Where the f*** have you been?” more than fellow Brits.

Anyhow, for six months from today the UK can enjoy lighter nights. Accompanied by rising temperatures, longer daylight hours affording folk, spirits eroded with winter COVID lockdown, opportunity to dine/socialise alfresco.

The redolence of cooking food on barbecue, prior to smorgasbord delivery, one of the finest elements of late spring, summer and early autumn. The cooking and eating outdoors raising the experience of even the simplest meals, such as sausages and burgers.

I don’t know anyone who opines a sausage butty grilled over barbecue coals, or gas, isn’t an infinitely more appealing culinary option to its indoor grilled cousin. That being said, I’m not sure I’ve ever asked that specific question to anyone; consequently, I’d be misleading to posit mine’s an informed observation.

As much as I don’t mind cooking, outside grilling on a barbecue with meat tongs and bottle of Peroni beer in hands an infinitely more pleasurable culinary preparation experience than the traditional indoor cuisine prep.

Over the next two days the forecast is for temperatures in West Yorkshire rising to 18 and 20 degree celsius respectively. Who knows, maybe I’ll get the opportunity to grill alfresco sooner than I thought.

I’ve just returned from walking my little canine buddy Coco on the local field. The Lancashire lass and her mum coming over to give me some respite from caring for ma mere.

Well her mum has anyhow, I suspect old Cokey wouldn’t be the most suitable option as Maggie’s carer. The lab/retriever cross’s force of nature belligerence not a natural bedfellow for looking after a mobility impacted octogenarians….. Not to mention my mum’d probably starve under the ravenous canine’s care.

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