D’you ever get the feelin’ yer trapped in some kinda time warp Darroll?

Let me be the first to admit I aint an eckspert on the time and space thing. But from what I been seein’ of late, it seems to me theres two kinds of time warp.

Theres the kind that can happen any day, but more offen in summer it seems, when the clock cant make up its mind if it wants to go fast or slow.

Its like bein’ in a warshin’ macheen thats stuck somewheres betwixt soak and spin. Not that I ever ackshually been in one myself, mind you.

You can sware you been workin’ fer hours but ownly 10 minnits has gone bye. Or you jest get started in on somethink and next you know the day is haff shot.

Thats the kinda time warp that hits me bytimes, speshually when I’m in the garden.

But theres an other kind, the spacey kind like on TV, where yer havin’ a war with a bunch of green folks from way off in the futchure, but evrybodys ridin’ horses and talkin’ like Shakesbeer.

Theres been a lot of that kind goin’ on hereabouts that has me wonderin’ if evrybody else is in a diffrent time zone ecksept me.

Take Unkle Walt fer instants. When ever somethink comes up about the good old days, he seems to slip off and follow the parade.

A few weeks back, I and him was watchin’ the Royal Vissit on TV. All on a sudden out of nowheres Walt says “I wonder whose lookin’ after Lillabet and Margret Rose.”

When I remind him it aint 19 and 39 any more, he snaps rite out of it. “You cud be rite” he says, “her and the King do seem to be lookin’ a goodly bit older.”

He winks at me when he says it, so I still aint sure if he was stretchin’ my leg the hole time.

Meantime Eva’s goin’ the other direckshun. Yestaday I was takin’ a bit of a stroll in the woods to get outta the heat, when I heared this voice from a ways off.

“Mister Speeker its an outrage.” Same words and over a tad diffrent evry time.

When I get closer theres Eva up on a reel stump waggin’ her finger and shoutin’ like shes in the Parlament.

Turn out she had this dream the PM called a snap eleckshun whilst the Libberal fellers bus was still broke down and she was a shoe-in on accounta bein’ none of the above.

Lastly theres Maisy. This afternoon I come in fer a glass of water and theres Maisy up to the elbows in berrys and cherrys shes puttin’ down in jars.

Her hairs all piled up big like Tammy Whynette and shes singin’ loud as she can, “Stand Bye Yer Man”.

Now even if she had a man to stand bye, whitch she dont, that is truely what I call a time warp, Darroll.

Yer pal,