Time to Kill

No man is an island... and yet when we envisage paradise, we imagine just that: an island, surrounded by an expanse of ocean, as far as the eye can see. So why the 21st century fear of solitude? Why is being alone considered something so terrible, so shameful? The phrase 'time-to-kill' says plenty of this mind-set. The realisation that time has suddenly become yours, whether it's for half an hour or more, is something to dispose of as quickly as possible. The indulgence of a few moments 'breathing space' has become something to avoid via the means of Facebook, Twitter, i-pods, mobile phones, lap tops etc. This form of escapism has become the 21st century way of taking time-out; a way to seek solace, without provoking thought.

During my first long lazy Sunday lunch in Florence, I found myself stealing glances at the Italian woman sitting at the table next to me. Here was a woman who seemed to be utterly un-phased by a lack of dining companion. In fact, she seemed to be wallowing in it. So much so, that she elongated the process by perusing the menu whilst sipping on a glass of prosecco before ordering a starter and main course, accompanied by the waiter's recommendations of wines. I found myself fixated. Not for one minute, did she reach into her handbag to strategically place a mobile phone on the table, or grasp at a book to hide behind. So why do the majority of us struggle to coordinate the use of a knife and fork whilst turning the pages of a book (even worse, newspaper - guaranteed to end up in the gravy)? Head down, eyes glued to the page (or ear strapped to the phone) we use these tools to convince others that we are juggling time, not indulging in it.

Since arriving in Italy, this vision of 'wanton solitude and nothingness' no longer grabs my attention; it’s too ordinary. The commonly used phrase of fare un po’ di niente (to do nothing) carries no shame and is something to actively seek out as highlighted by the unusual use of the verb ‘fare’ meaning ‘to do’. Italians will literally do a little of nothing. Whilst the Italian stereotype of large, boisterous family meals certainly has its place, so does a subtler, but no less enjoyable version. Italians will often enjoy long meals in their own company (without any form of 'phone a friend' life-line). In Italy, there is always a place for the solitary diner who wants to quaff their wine, play with their spaghetti and engage in light conversation with the waiter. Rather than being an isolated island, they're king of their court and enjoying the attention. Perhaps it's a case of the Italian ego enjoying being waited on hand and foot? Whatever it is, phone batteries die, and what then? Maybe we should do as the Italian’s do, stop killing-time, and simply take it instead.