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.

Ahh! Oh, 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...

Oh, god!

Everyone makes little mistakes. It's fine. Come on.

...6, 5, 4, 3,21.

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.

Oh, hello. Sexy pyjamas.

Ah, Tim, come in.

Uh, 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.

Uh... right.

Tim, my dear son, the, uh...

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.

It'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.

Wow.

Is as good a reaction as any.

I think I plumped for "fuck!" But it was the '70s.

No, this is so obviously a joke.

It's not a joke.

Why would I lie to someone I'm

fairly fond of?

Okay.

But, when I come back downstairs

after standing in a cupboard with my fists clenched,

you're gonna be in so much trouble.

Well, let's see, shall we?

Oh, and, Tim, try and do something interesting.

So much trouble.

I mean it. Really.

Right.

Wow!

You all right, Tim?

Yes. Yeah. Good, ace. Yeah.

Good, come on. It's nearly midnight and we've got to find...

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Whoo! Midnight.

10,9, 8,7,

6,9, 4, 3,2, 1.

Happy new year!

Thank you, Tim.

You're welcome, Polly.

Does mum know?

Not a whistle.

Strange. And what about the whole...

Butterfly effect thing. What can I say?

We don't seem to have messed up civilisation yet.

It's gonna be a complicated year.

It's gonna be a complicated life.

What have you done with it?

For me, it's books, books, books.

I've read everything a man could wish to.

Twice. Dickens three times. Any first thoughts?

Well, I suppose apart from getting a slightly better haircut...

Yeah.

...money would be the obvious thing.

Very mixed blessing.

Utterly screwed up your grandfather's life.

Left him without love or friends.

I've never bumped into a genuinely happy rich person.

It would be nice not to have to work.

No, that's a real recipe for disaster.

Look what happened to uncle Fred.

What happened to uncle Fred?

Absolutely sod all.

Wasted his life.

You have to use it for things that you really think

will make your life the way you want it to be.

Come on, really think about this.

Well,

to be honest, I suppose, at the moment,

it would be just great if it could help me get a girlfriend.

Wow.

Massive. Yeah.

The mothership.

For me, it was always gonna be about love.

And that summer I walked into the eye of the storm.

Her name was Charlotte. Cousin of kit Kat's

handsome but nasty boyfriend Jimmy.

And she was staying for two whole months.

Just one. Not both of them.

Tim,

will you do my back?

Absolutely!

Very keen!

Whoa! Oh, no. Oh, no.

Oh, no. No, no. No, no, no.

Is it in my hair? Yes!

Tim. Will you do my back?

Sure. Just give us a sec.

Okay.

Thank you.

Now...

Ooh. Nice.

It's my area.

It was a summer of suntan and torture.

I invited my foolish friend Jay around for tennis

because I thought he'd make me look good.

I was wrong!

Ow! What are you doing? Oh, no.

Charlotte just made both of us look like idiots.

Bad luck, Tim.

How the hell are you meant to concentrate on your game?

How are you meant to live your life

with this sort of shit going down?

It never got better until suddenly

it was almost too late.

Well, Charlotte, our final lunch.

No!

And it's been really, really lovely having you all summer.

It has.

Thank you. Thank you.

It really has.

Hasn't it, Desmond?

Beg your pardon?

Lovely having Charlotte here all summer.

Charlotte? Who's Charlotte?

Come on, darling. Charlotte, sitting next to you.

Oh, yes, of course. Of course. Charlotte. Hi.