Ian McMillan: A time in the life of this man when ...

I’m getting a bit bored with months and weeks and days and hours and minutes and seconds, aren’t you? I reckon it’s time we promoted our own way of measuring the passing of morning into evening into night and back again. In other words, I’m thinking of creating Yorkshire Time Measurement; I’m starting with an idea but there’ll be watches, clocks and calendars available for the Christmas rush, so that’s your gift problems solved! We’ve always looked at time a little differently round these parts anyway; where I live, in what used to be the South Yorkshire coalfield, 4am is always “pit time”, the week before you go on holiday will always be Bull Week (because you work like a bull to get a good wage to spend in the slot machines and the chip shops), and the first day of the six-week holidays is known as Mother’s Pest or sometimes Teacher’s Rest, especially if you’re a teacher. I’m going to go further in the Yorkshireisation of time. For a start, I’ll get rid of “morning” and “night” and instate four new categories: Wekken Up, Kettle On, Nod Off, Jamas On. Wekken Up is when your eyelids clang open and you spring out of bed whistling Ilkley Moor Bah’t At. Kettle On is dinnertime, when you make a nice cup of tea to sup with your meal. Nod Off is mid-afternoon, when the eyelids droop and you think you’ll rest them for a minute, just for a minute, on the settee. And of course Jamas On is bedtime. I don’t wear jamas, mind you, I just wear a smile, but to call bedtime Nowt On would confuse it with bathtime, and I don’t want to get to sub-categories yet. I realise these divisions are completely subjective, but I reckon that if you go back to the dawn of humankind, the we use now would have started subjectively; it may be that it’s called Morning because if you say it slowly it sounds like you’re stretching, and it could be called night because it sounds like your eyes are shut tight. Something like that, anyway. I haven’t completely thought that through.

When I’ve reordered the day I’ll do the seasons; I’ll Yorkshire them up, because I’m bored with spring, summer, autumn and winter. I’ll rename the seasons, for obvious reasons: “Brightening Up”; “By, It’s Warm”; “Where’s My Scarf?”; and “I’m Frozzen”. Slip off the tongue, don’t they? In a Yorkshire kind of way.

Let’s call Sunday “Puddings For Starters” and Monday “Alarm’s Gone Off” and Tuesday “Nowt on’t Box” and Wednesday “Halfway Through”and Thursday “Tekkaway Delivered”’ and Friday “Hooam Early” and Saturday “Guin Art”. Once you start with this Time-Tykeing you can’t stop. Significant dates in the calendar can be played to a White Rose tune. Christmas Day can be “I Hope I Don’t Get Socks Again Day” and Boxing Day could be ‘“Turkey Sarnies Piled High on a Plate Day”. Valentine’s Day will be “Flowers From’t Garage For Our Lass Day” and Mother’s Day will be “Tekkin Mam Art to a Carvery When She’d Rather Stop In’t House and Watch Telly Day”.

I’ve got all my ideas written down. I’ll get them presentable and then I’ll go and see a calendar company and a clock firm. Well, it passes the time.

Related topics: