We're quick to do everything these days. Quick to eat our dripping junk food, quick to speed from one place to another in our various hunks of metal, quick to judge others... all quick. And hasn't the word lost all meaning now? Quick, quick quick quick, quick quick. Quick.
The reason I'm thinking about speed is that I just finished a stressful online experience that involved being very quick indeed. As if booking flights with two different airlines wasn't stressful enough, one of them happily informed me that I had seven minutes to complete my details. Seven minutes to fill in my name (that's a tough one...), address, tepholone (no typo, just sounds better), and, most importantly, payment details. All the while, of course, worrying that I might have got my days mixed up and really I should be boarding a plane this time three weeks from Monday minus two days but only on a public holiday... Seven minutes. And then there's the moment when I realise the site won't take my debit card, so I have to run away to the other side of the room to fetch my credit card, which has been badly hidden out of my immediate reach for money saving purposes. Seven minutes just tick tick ticking away...
But I can be calm now, because I made it. Flights are booked, email confirmations are received, and serenity has returned to my befuddled brain. Yes, in four weeks time, I will be boarding a giant hunk of metal so that I can be several hundred miles away in the quickest time possible. The words of Vin Garbutt are now running through my mind over and over. In our haste, we're laying waste, a beautiful place... For a few seconds there I thought that place was my mind, but it seems to be recovered... for now.