"Do you remember when...?"

"Time is an illusion:  lunchtime doubly so."    Douglas Adams

Twenty-two years ago today, I was a nervous bride-in-waiting; the cream silk gown, made by my mother, was hanging in state and the intricate lace veil was awaiting its debut.  Finishing touches were being added to the cake - we would have to wait until morning to gather the fresh ivy leaves to decorate the base - and friends and family had started to arrive from various far-flung corners of the British Isles.

It's funny how many events in our lives can stay crystal-clear in our minds; we can put ourselves right back there, whenever we want to, and really feel, see and hear exactly what was going on at that time; reliving the event in our imagination with such incredible clarity, regardless of how many intervening years have elapsed. 

Sometimes it's not the most important things that we remember; a random and seemingly unimportant event can remain very clear in our minds, for no apparent reason - I have a remarkably clear memory of visiting "Strawberry Farm" - a farm shop near our home - when I must have been about two years old; how high up the wooden crates of vegetables seemed to me, the smell of the dark shed and the silky feel of broad bean pods when I reached up to touch.

Sometimes time seems to pass so slowly - do you remember how long the summer holidays lasted when we were little?  They seemed to stretch out in front of us forever - six or seven weeks was an eternity of joyful freedom! - but as we grow older, so time seems to speed up.  It seems no time at all since we were slipping and sliding outside on the snow and ice that gripped our lane for so many weeks last winter!

I heard an elegant theory about why this is so - when we are, say, five, a month is quite a big proportion of those five years; when we are forty-five, that proportion grows less significant.  Time, then, appears to speed up relative to our age.

We all create our own realities, though, so if time is relative then we can all be in control of how fast it appears to pass for us.  If we spend our time focusing on the past or the future, is it any wonder that the present passes us by? 

If you want to be able to recall precious memories in the future, remember that you have to be in the moment now in order to create them.  I  have a very clear memory of my lovely older sister telling me exactly that, on the morning of Saturday 5 August 1989.  Thanks for that, Cait - I am forever grateful!

Taking time to see

"Nobody sees a flower - really - it is so small it takes time - we haven't time - and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time." - Georgia O'Keeffe

Our beautiful house was once a granary, and I am very lucky to have my study facing onto the courtyard; the view of which is framed by one of the granary arches, now filled in by sliding glass doors which makes for a very peaceful, light and sunny room. Around the courtyard are some lovely trees and shrubs, much beloved by a variety of small birds whose presence we encourage by a steady supply of peanuts. The bluetits are particularly abundant and I have a huge affection for these tiny creatures whose small lives are lived out so close to our own, and yet so secretively that we cannot share much of their daily travails.

Last week, however, I was able to share for a brief time in the life of one of these tiny scraps of feathered beauty which unfortunately collided catastrophically with the big glass window of my study in its journey across the courtyard. Fortunately the client I was seeing at the time had no objection to my hurrying outside on a rescue mission - not the first time this has happened! As I scooped up this little bird very gently from the stone, it clung to my finger and sat, somewhat bemused, in the warmth of my hand. I was struck by the beauty of the colours; able to take my time to really see, as this little creature slowly recovered - amazed by the perfection of each tiny feather.

I was very grateful for this small interlude of exploration into a beauty that we are not normally privileged to see. This week set aside some time - even if it only five minutes - to really see something; a flower, a leaf or a blade of grass - and be amazed by the beauty you discover. As Henry Miller wrote, "The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself."

Teachings of Dog - No 5: The Gift of Time

We were granted the gift of a whole extra hour of weekend, thanks to the clocks changing, and I enjoyed Jim Connolly's excellent blog on this subject yesterday.

Time is a precious commodity and, like water, we tend not to appreciate how precious until there is a shortage of it. Hugo is our oldest dog - at 14 we are now counting his remaining days like pearls slipping gently off a string. I'm not sure what happened to the tiny, fluffy soft-toy puppy we brought home in 1996, or where the glossy, energetic young dog has gone, who used to love the beaches in Guernsey. I remember walking along Vazon Bay one day and John saying he wished we could save a day of "young Hugo" to spend when he was old.

Hugo can no longer walk very far, but still enjoys a potter around the lawn and has a prodigious appetite for fallen apples, which he crunches up with tremendous satisfaction. He can no longer jump onto the sofa, but with a bit of assistance he can make it onto the furry beanbag which adapts itself very comfortably to his arthritic little body. Ensconced in front of the fire, he dreams dreams which make his feet twitch as if he's running once more along Vazon beach - I think maybe he spends more time as "young Hugo" than we know.

Hugo's Teachings:

• Live in the moment - today is a gift (they say that's why it's called 'the present').
• When you can no longer do what you used to do, find something better.
• Even when you are old, the younger you is still in there - somewhere.
• When life gives you an extra hour, spend it with someone you love.
• The most important things in life are love, compassion and patience... always.