The race of life
By jove she's done it she's published a Substack
This Sunday, I sent my mum a card (Gavin and Stacey) and some flowers - as you do - and set about spending my day as normal: drifting around my flat, binge-watching reality TV, and conjuring meals out of random items found in my freezer drawers.
Sometimes, I pretend I don’t go on my phone on Sundays. But I do - I really go in for it, actually - racking up screen time like I’m going for a special high score. And this Sunday was no different. What do you mean the weather was literally picture-perfect beautiful? There’s drama between the Welsh 5 on TikTok and incessant Channel 4 ad breaks between MAFS segments to navigate!
At around 4 pm, after giving my thumbs a really good workout, I started to feel funny. Like a sudden foreboding in my tummy funny. Eyebrows furrowed, couldn’t even focus that much on Tim being a dick to Katie funny.
I used to have this bad habit where I would come home from work so outrageously ravenous after a tortuous stop start journey on the number 76 bus that I would inhale whatever I could get my hands on. Usually crisps, sometimes cheese, maybe even frozen chips straight from the packet or dried strands of pasta. Whatever it was, I would consume consume consume, knowing that the moment they settled in my stomach, I would feel sick.
“I’ve just realised I’ve consumed 4 hours' worth of Instagram content of people we know who are now parents”, I said to Fred. “No wonder I feel sick”. Fred is a boy, so he didn’t understand the significance of this statement. So I took my limber thumbs over to WhatsApp. “Guys I’ve just noticed literally everyone has got a kitchen extension and ceramic tableware and children. What the fuck have I been doing?”.
I’ve been toying with this idea ever since. Turning it over in my mind like a loose penny in my pocket.
What have I been doing?
I’m not sure if this always happens on Mother’s Day, and I’m not sure why I am writing this down because, dear reader, you are well aware of the facts. But the clocks also changed this weekend.
What if all of my most crucial hours got lost in the transition from GMT to BST?
When I flew to New York, I lost an entire day. It just got sucked up into the timeslip that is air travel. When I was in New York on the Friday, there was a 5 hour time difference between where I was and where I usually am. By the time I came home, this had reduced to 4 hours. When I was on the plane home, I gained time.
In England, there was no nationwide ‘time’ - that is, officially - until 1880. That’s only 140 years ago. 140 years! Humans have existed for over 300,000 years. And the only reason we got an official ‘time’ is because trains were invented and needed a timetable to run on. We all worry about AI taking over our lives - just look at what trains did.
Annie said that the first few years of your thirties feel hot, like a fresh sunburn, but every year, the stinging subsides. And the right way or the wrong way becomes easier to identify and navigate. I’m looking forward to this. And I am looking forward, too, to my 40-year-old self laughing at me now. “You thought you had problems then, honey?” Or maybe “be careful what you wish for” after a slew of new baby sleepless nights.
When I think of myself 10 years ago, I can baaaarely remember what that looked like. Just recall a bright pink kitchen in Whitechapel and Richmond sausage sandwiches for tea every night. Which is strange when some of my childhood, school and college memories are vivid in my mind. Can smell the Paul Smith Rose perfume or see how Roz’s hair used to curl and flick out when I helped her tie it up for school.
In Interstellar (bear with me lol), there’s that planet where every hour = 7 years on Earth. I’m taking this as evidence of some physics that challenges our understanding of time because Hollywood surely NEVER LIES. And I can lie in bed and watch hours disappear before my very eyes on TikTok, but put me in front of a microwave for just 45 seconds, and I am ready to end it all.
I guess what I am trying to say is that TIME IS A RUBBER BAND, so maybe each of us experiences it differently. Maybe my 20s were not the same as your 20s. And if humans can go from no time, to an entire Amazon best sellers list of books about time management in just 140 years - maybe I can get my shit together in 10. Whatever that looks like for me.
Remember when I said I was going to write every week in 2025? January Jess was adorable 🥲. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this one because who knows when I’ll write another!!!!
Jess x
Right, another reason to hate trains.
🥇!!!!