I don’t mean to be late all the time. I know when I have to get up, I know when I need to leave the house, I know how long it will take me to get where I’m going. But something happens in between – there’s some kind of gravitational pull on the spacetime in my house and time passes differently to time in the rest of the world. It may be linked to my deep enjoyment of sitting on the lounge with my cup of tea. It could be the time warp effect of Facebook, or perhaps the delicious warmth of the shower messes with the spacetime continuum. I don’t know. I do know that I’m quite frequently still running around half dressed when I’m meant to be at school. Breakfast is usually something portable gobbled down on the way. And lunch is frequently left in the fridge by accident. But if I’ve not been able to resolve the problem by now, in my 44th year, chances are it’s a lost cause. The rest of civilization might just have to get a little zen about it and accept that that’s just the way it is. Sorry folks.