Entry for 31st July, 2008

I don't know whether it's because I have kids now, but I am currently consumed with thoughts of my own mortality. Before the kids came along I was usually consumed with lying in bed with the Sunday papers and a bacon roll at three in the afternoon.
It seems that before the kids came along I had all the time in the world, and I squandered it. I was like a twnety one year old aristocrat with his trust fund; except my wealth was measured in hours and days and lazy weeks rather than pounds shillings and pence.
But now, oddly, though I have more productive days than ever (the repetitive cry of "Daddy. Daddy Daddy." from the kids room at 6am sees to that) I feel that the sand are slipping through the hour glass. Look closely and you can see the grains falling through the neck of the jar. Look - on that tiny speck you can just see me crying as I hold my wee girl for the first time; on that one there we four are sitting under a blanket laughing at nothing at all.
But already the pictures are blurring; the sand is moving so fast, and as fast as one falls, it is covered by tens of others. Then hundreds. Then thousands.