Recently, when checking out posts on my other blog listed in my daily stats as having been visited by my rollickin' readers, I've noticed that, strangely, quite a few of them were published in 2017 - a whole 7 years ago. To me, however, it feels like I published them far more recently, like a year or two at most, or even just a few months ago. So why's that strange, you may be wondering. Well, the house I lived in before my current one, from 1965 to '72, my family were there for only 6 years and 7 months. I say 'only', but when we flitted, I'd spent almost half my life in that house and it felt like a not insignificant span. It therefore seems odd (now that I'm an OAP) that just under 7 years to the (nearly) 14 year-old I was back in '72, feels a far longer duration than between now and when I wrote and published these posts back in 2017. I know I've mentioned the paradoxes of time before (or at least our perceptions of it), but the subject never ceases to amaze me.
Another example of this is the film Licence To Kill, which I caught a few moments of when it was on TV earlier tonight (Friday). I saw this movie in the ABC Cinema in Glasgow with my pal, the late Moonmando, in 1989, which was 35 years ago. Yet that night seems much more recent to me as I can still remember it as though it were last week. I tend to think of it as one of the newer Bond movies, but the time between then and now seems far, far less than the span between when Bond first appeared in 1962 and me seeing my first 007 double-bill in 1973 - a mere 11 years. Licence To Kill was the 16th film in the series and, to date, there have been only 25 in total, resulting in only 9 Bond movies in 35 years. Remember when they used to do one every year? (At least for the first 4 Connery films and the first 2 Moore ones.)
And then there's the first Michael Keaton Batman movie, also from 1989. (In fact, the week after seeing LTK, me and Moony went to see Batman in the same cinema.) And although the time elapsed since 1989 and now is greater than between the '60s TV series and the big-budget blockbuster film, it just doesn't feel like anywhere near it. As I get older, my life seems to be racing away from me at an ever-increasing and alarming rate and I wish I knew how to slow it down to a more comfortable pace. How about the rest of you Mellows? Do you feel as though your life is like a high-speed car chase and someone has cut the brakes? Or is the fact that you're zooming towards what was once a vague and distant horizon that is now becoming ever-crisper and clearer to your view too distressing for you to contemplate?
(Well done, Gordie - that's a nice cheery post that's sure to draw in lots of comments.)
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