He refused to tell me anything. He was trying to tease the information out of me and get me to come up with my own answers, but how could I tell him what I didn’t know? It was a ridiculous learning method.

I was so pleased when Betty arrived at 10.00 a.m. We heard her car draw up and Stanley opened the door to greet her, smiling in welcome.

‘Hi Betty, welcome to the Time Workshops.’

She merely nodded to us both and sat down next to me, keeping to the rule not to exchange pleasantries and disrupt the energies. In this case, I thought it might have been a good idea as I felt quite negative at that moment.

‘Have I missed much?’ she asked me.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ I replied sulkily, ‘if you have, then I’ve missed it too.’

Stanley giggled as if I had said something really witty and I scowled at him.

Betty glanced from one to the other of us.

‘I see I’ve arrived just in time.’

‘Indeed you have, we are attempting to answer the question, What is Time?’ Stanley informed her.

‘Less of the we,’ I muttered.

He laughed. ‘Alright then, Abby is attempting to answer the question What is Time? She doesn’t appear to be having much luck however. Strange really when you consider that we all use time every day.’

‘I wouldn’t say use,’ I countered, ‘more like we are used by it.’

Stanley laughed again. ‘Oh dear, you really do need these workshops don’t you? So far we have considered that Time is a framework and is necessary for survival, what do you think Betty? What is time to you?’

Betty was quiet for a moment, considering the question and then answered thoughtfully.

‘I would say that time is order, without time we would have chaos.’

‘Mmmm, order. Very good,’ Stanley nodded approvingly.

It was different with Betty there beside me. I felt less pressurised and started to concentrate and get into the swing of it.

I wrote:

 
Time is order

‘Time is measurement,’ I contributed. ‘A way of measuring seconds, minutes, days, months, years. Centuries ago we had a sundial to measure the passage of the sun.’

I scribbled hastily:

 
Time is measurement

Stanley looked at me and nodded. ‘So time is order and measurement. Anything else?’

‘It’s a way of meeting people,’ Betty said.

I was puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, without time we wouldn’t be able to arrange anything would we? I mean I arranged to be here at 10 a.m., so you knew when to expect me.’

‘So time is meetings,’ Stanley cut in, ‘anything else?’

Betty and I looked at each other searching for inspiration.

‘Time is money?’ I suggested.

Stanley winced. ‘Oooh, that’s a bad construct to have.’

‘Why?’ I was defensive. ‘If you worked you might have the same one. We get paid by the hours we put in, so to those of us who do work,’ I†laboured the point, annoyed at his reaction, ‘time is money.’

‘Nobody pays me for the hours I work,’ Betty murmured almost to herself.

‘Well perhaps they should,’ I suggested. ‘The Government was thinking of paying housewives and child carers. Even if you were paid the minimum wage you could claim as a cleaner, cook, laundry maid, child carer, gardener, chauffeur.’

‘I’d be rich if I claimed for all that,’ Betty looked pleased.

‘And then there’s shopping, ironing, counselling.’

‘Ladies, can we please stay focussed?’ Stanley stopped me in mid flow, smiled and paused a moment before continuing.

‘Now is that all you have to say about time?’

I felt managed, and as a manager I recognised the technique. It confirmed my suspicions that this was not Stanley speaking. This was an articulate, educated person, totally unlike the inarticulate, semi-literate Stanley.

‘I’ve noticed,’ Betty said ‘that when you’re happy time seems to go really quickly and when you want it to go quickly, like when you’re in a dentist’s chair or waiting for someone in the rain, it goes really slowly.’

‘Yes indeed,’ Stanley confirmed. ‘But is it time that varies, or our conception of it?’

‘Our conception of it,’ Betty was quick to agree.

‘So time itself stays the same?’ Stanley asked.

I was thoughtful. ‘That’s an interesting idea. I suppose it does, but that means there is what I might call subjective time which is our experience of it and an objective time that stays the same.’

‘Oooh, we’re getting serious now with all these big words,’ Stanley chuckled. ‘What do you think Betty?’

‘Well I don’t understand Abby’s subjective and objective, but I think I grasp the principles. It’s like everything else isn’t it? Something happens and we all respond to it differently.’

‘Good,’ Stanley nodded to her gravely. ‘I’m glad to know you are grasping the principles. Ladies should always hold on to their principles. And Abby, would you agree that subjective time is personal time which we may call the experiencer, and objective time is non personal, the experience itself?’

‘Yes,’ I nodded as I wrote:

 
Personal time is the experiencer