The passage of time

I was listening today to Episode 126 of the Chicane 'Sun:Sets' podcast that appears weekly on my iPhone. For 60 minutes, it is a great escape from work or whatever, and it has really got me back into dance music in recent months.

I say 'back', because I know I really enjoyed my year at Nottingham Law School, when I really got into DJ-ing, and the dance music scene. This reminds me of those days.

I say also 'recent months', because Nick 'Chicane' Bracegirdle, who presents the show, mentioned in passing during this episode how the show (which was originally broadcast only monthly) had been going since 2013. So that's at least 3, possibly nearly 4 years ago then...

Whilst separately listening to another podcast over the Christmas period, Michael Palin was a guest, and happened to recollect (in the context of the deteriorating mental health due to dementia of his friend, and fellow Python, Terry Jones) the Monty Python farewell shows held recently (or so I had thought) at the O2 in London. Until he mentioned that these were 2.5 years ago. Immediately I checked and, although I never went to these shows, they were indeed in the summer of 2014. I remember listening to some podcasts at the time, building the promotion. But... seriously? 2.5 years ago???!

Time passes so fast these days. Both of the previous events happened / started whilst I was looking for podcasts, as a 'new thing', to listen to on the way to work. And here I still am, doing that very same thing, in the same way, recalling inconsequential events from years ago as though they were (surely?) mere months ago?

Time needs to slow down. Mum mentioned, over Christmas, that 27 December marked the 28th anniversary of the day her Dad, and my Grandad died. I was 14 when that happened in 1989. Meaning he's been gone twice as long as I knew him (and, given that no-one really 'knows' anyone for the first few years of one's life, arguably even longer). That doesn't seem possible. It sounds trite, but I still miss him and think of him (as with all my grandparents) often. I find it gives me comfort, even though I know that I am too often, too guilty of wallowing in nostalgia. The past, however, is fixed, immovable, set in stone. Reliable. The future (and even the present) is, by comparison, quite the opposite.

Some see the fact that the future is not written as an opportunity. I regard it with fear and anxious discomfort. This is what I need to fix.