I would like to think that after a long time I had trouble with Tyme. Literally, I didn't have it, so there was no question keeping it. Grey skies and an 'every-place' light didn't help either. Everything seemed to be contriving to keep Tyme away. From me, that is. (Don't get me wrong, this place is not timeless). My hotel lobby had no clock (it was one of these contemporary 'boutique' hotels, aspiring to timeless-ness). The receptionist didn't wear a watch (passe). The hotel room didn't have an alarm clock (and refreshingly, didn't have a Bible either). The hotel TV didn't have cable, so no scrolling TV guide, which incidentally keeps Tyme. See what I mean? No timekeepers. I knew it was there, Tyme that is, for how can there not be A time? But for now, it was not for me to have it.
So I played along.
Didn't ask anyone directly for Tyme. Didn't put the radio on (in fact, I hadn't realised it till now that that would have been a way to get Tyme, for sure). Actually, it wasn't so much as didn't put the radio on as much as didn't think of putting the radio on. Took a long soak in the bath tub, as I promised myself I would through out the long flight. A really long soak. One where one dozes off and wakes up to find oneself quite frozen. So one soaks again. The ritual repeats several times. No Tyme interfering still. One steps out, dries oneself, and decides to take a nap. A snooze. A shut-eye, if you will. And then it happens....when does one get up? Tyme's nagging absence keeps me awake. I try to guess the time, so that I can guess when to wake up. Refreshed, hopefully. Doesn't happen.
I give in, eventually, when it is indeterminately dark outside but the place is still buzzing with activity. I walk into Un Petite Place, a Frenchie-owned coffee place that serves a short flat white coffee (more on that later!!!), and ask 'what time is it', and against all hopes, they answer numerically, 'half-past eleven, love'. Tyme on.