Flights of fancy

Sometimes I take an idle flight of fancy into the realms of philosophy, psychology, or even horology, and imagine myself as more learned and educated than I really am. Whilst this may well fool some readers, it does not fool me into knowing that in reality I know less than I really know. 

Whilst I may well quote Marcel Proust, he who wrote "À la recherche du temps perdu", or René Descartes, he who said, "Cogito ergo sum", or indeed any other learned person from history it grieves me that not one of them ever saw fit to quote me, thus elevating my writings to the realms of the famous and erudite.

But be that as it may, I rest assured that my place in history was long predicted by my first year teacher who wrote in my annual progress report, "Victor will go down in history!" To which the Headmaster added, "also in Science, Geography, Mathematics and every other subject except day-dreaming."

But what is day-dreaming if not dreaming with eyes open? 

You can sit there, or anywhere, and imagine whatever you will and it is there. You can travel to far away places, or nearer ones to the local supermarket, and within an instant you are there. You don't need to pack up your cases, or get your passport and other documents, or prepare a shopping list if you're visiting your local shop. You imagine it, you day-dream it, and it's there. 

To dream the impossible dream ... To fight the unbeatable foe ... To bear with unbearable sorrow ... To run where the brave dare not go ...

But then I wake up from my day-dream and think; why? Why bother fighting the unbeatable foe? If he is unbeatable he will smash me into a pulp in no time. What's so clever about that? Why bear unbearable sorrow? Isn't there enough pain and misery in the world? Who wrote such lyrics which will no doubt end up badly? Is it not enough that life is a series of failures punctuated with disappointments?

 

No ... I have a different dream and vision. It's called realism. 

 

I think that sometimes life may seem like a dream; until you look down and realise you forgot to put on your pants. 

 

They say a good marriage is a dream ... until you wake up and apologise for what you have done in her dream! 

 

Let's be realistic here. As they say: as one door closes another one will open outwards and hit you in the face.

 

Time moves on and waits for no man. Have you ever sat in the car to go somewhere important and she's still deciding what dress to wear and whether it matches her shoes? 

What is it with women and shoes? Why so many? And what about their love for chocolates? I did not know what to buy my wife for her birthday so I bought her a pair of shoes made of chocolate.

 

It certainly saved time, and bought me some peace with the silent treatment. 

 

Time is of the essence. If I could save time in a bottle I'd probably drink it in one go. 

That's what horology is. The science or study of time; or making clocks and watches.

My grand-father was a horologist. When he died it took ages to wind up his estate.