And now that the semester has ended, and teaching and marking is over for the next few weeks, I am relishing the gift of time. Time which many I know will consider I squander but which for me is not so much squandering but rejuvenation – time for myself in the sense of time I can use unconstrained by timetables, schedules and deadlines. Squandered, possibly in a scheme in which time is measured in terms of output,but not in terms of input – of which there seems to have been rather little lately.
So I walk with the puppy for an hour relishing the rhythm of my feet against the ground, and watching my dog as she hurtles across the snow, long legs flailing inelegantly, large feet dropping from the ends, celebrating being let off the lead to run harum scarum across an empty open field; or burrowing through a snowdrift giving herself hoary beard and eyebrows. I half register the chimes of the town clock telling me it’s a quarter to, and am delighted when I realise that I have no idea what it is a quarter to to.
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