Clifford Simak will, probably, forgive me for making use of his story title: Time is the Simplest Thing as the title of this entry. It just fits.
There's another title that might do just as well. More of that later.
I have used the photograph to the side of this text before. It is a photo of the clock that hangs on the wall beside the desk where I write. Who knows what it says about my writing, or my writing process. There is the risk that it explains many, many things.
I had thought, up until recently, that it was just me and Dalí sharing a passion for odd clocks. Not so.
My sister, her husband and daughter, visited recently (for a few days before and after our home was actually presentable). My sister took one look at the clock and said, "you too?"
I am the furthest away, out, let's go with furthest west, of all my family and so did not immediately understand her question. It seems we all have likings for strangeness when it comes to clocks.
In parts East we are known as the "wacky Mackeys" because of it. Seems someone has a fondness for rhyme.
So, I come by my wackiness honestly it would seem. I never doubted it.
And the other title? Wacky Mackeys, of course. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's somewhere between 8 and 5 past whatever...