About Time

I always knew we

were a fairly odd family.

First there was me.

Too tall. Too skinny.

Too orange.

My mum was lovely,

but not like other mums.

There was

something solid about her.

Something rectangular,

busy and unsentimental.

Her fashion icon was the Queen.

Dad, well, he was more normal. He always

seemed to have time on his hands.

After giving up teaching university

students on his 50th birthday,

he was eternally available

for a leisurely chat or

to let me win at table tennis.

Yes.

And then there was Mum's

brother, Uncle Desmond.

Always impeccably dressed. He

spent the days just, well,

being Uncle Desmond.

He was the most charming and least

clever man you could ever meet.

His mind was on other things,

though we never found out what.

And then,

finally there was Catherine.

Katie. Kit Kat. My sister.

In a household of sensible jackets

and haircuts there was this,

well, what can I call her,

nature thing.

With her elfin eyes, her purple

T-shirts and her eternally bare feet,

she was then,

and still is to me,

about the most wonderful

thing in the world.

All in all, it was a pretty good childhood.

Full of repeated rhythms and patterns.

By the time I was 21,

we were still

having tea on the beach

every single day.

Skimming stones and

eating sandwiches,

summer and winter,

no matter what the weather.

And every Friday evening,

a film,

no matter what the weather.

And then once a year, the

dreaded New Year's Eve party.

Yeah, I might just get one.

You're absolutely gorgeous.

I'm Katie. What am I drinking?

This is very expensive stuff.

Cheers. Cheers.

Come on, it's nearly midnight.

We're all going through.

We're going through.

Look, I've gotta find you a...

God!

Everyone makes little mistakes.

It's fine. Come on.

6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year.

Sorry.

And so I woke up

the next morning,

hung-over, ashamed of myself,

and not realising

it was the day

that would change

my life forever.

Get up, stupid.

Dad wants you.

Hello. Sexy pyjamas.

Tim, come in.

Do

sit down.

That's very formal.

Well, um, yeah.

This is an odd moment for me

because I had

the same moment with my

father when I'd just

turned 21, and after it,

my life was never the same, so I

approach it pretty, um, nervously.

Okay.

When you're ready.

It's all very mysterious.

Right.

Tim, my dear son, the...

The simple fact is

the men in this family

have always had

the ability to...

This is going to sound strange,

be prepared for strangeness.

Get ready for spooky time,

but there's this family secret.

And the secret is that

the men in the family can

travel in time.

Well, more accurately,

travel back in time.

We can't travel

into the future.

This is such a weird joke.

?t's seriously not a joke.

So you're saying that you and

granddad, and his brothers

could all travel back in time?

Absolutely.

And you still do? Absolutely.

Although it's not as dramatic as it sounds.

It's only in my own life.

I can only go to places where I

actually was and can remember.

I can't kill Hitler or shag

Helen of Troy, unfortunately.

Okay, stop.

Um...

if it's true, which it isn't.

Although it is.

Although it isn't, obviously. But if

it was, which it's not. Which it is.

Which it isn't.

But if it was, how would I...

The ?'How?' is

the easy bit, in fact.

You go into a dark place,

big cupboards are

very useful generally.

Toilets, at a pinch.

Then you clench

your fists like this.

Think of the moment

you're going to

and you'll find yourself there.

After a bit of a stumble

and a rumble and a tumble.

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