Tempus fugit and all that. In retail land it has a tendency to fugit ahead of itself too as we are forever getting in stock for the coming season. The crumbs from the mince pies are barely swept away before shelves need to be stocked with hot cross buns, the red roses of Valentine’s Day are pushed aside to find space for the Mothering Sunday cards, a brief flurry of flag waving for St George’s Day and then it’s Father’s Day again and so on and so on.
And indeed just in case we were tempted to sit back and rest, maybe garner a little energy for the coming Christmas season, this week we are unpacking the calendars and stocking up on diaries for next year. Over a quarter of the year to go but it is already time to start thinking about the next one. The arrival of calendars seems earlier every year, although possibly like policemen getting younger and a tendency to bewail the poor spelling of new job applicants, this could merely be a symptom of one’s own advancing years.
I’m not that much of a regimented forward planner myself. If an event is proposed more than three weeks ahead I tend to blithely agree to it in the spirit of bonhomie, thinking I’ll sort out details andor excuses closer to the time. This can work, although if you have failed to make a note you can find yourself with clashing commitments. Or, indeed, if the appointment is not brought to one’s notice until just before the occurrence and good manners prevent one from cancelling, it will prove necessary to follow through with gritted teeth and a spirit of come-what-may braggadocio (I cite black water rafting in the Waitomo Caves and my first marriage as examples). Hum, perhaps I should buy one of those new diaries now.