When I went to see a colleague this afternoon, I waited in the reception. Not for long, mind, but I

When I went to see a colleague this afternoon, I waited in the reception. Not for long, mind, but I was nevertheless great insight struck by that sense of being suspended that is common to all forms of waiting from waiting for the inexplicably unreturned phonecall to waiting for the maddeningly delayed flight in an airport lounge. There is definitely that suspension which combines a seething and a submission.
When I subsequently read in the paper that we spend 2.1 years of our lives on hold, waiting to be dealt with on the phone, I thought – Surely great insight not! But, then again, why should I be so outraged? Being on hold is just a modern incarnation of Elizabeth Bennet’s waiting for Darcy or people in beseiged Stalingrad waiting in food queues. Waiting is inescapable. I wish I could use waiting more productively and that I could recite once-memorised poetry in its space, “Before the Roman came to Rye, or out to Severn great insight strode…” But I never do.
Then, my friend great insight Beth texted me to say that her baby had been born yesterday. I last saw her four weeks ago on one of the hottest days of the year when she was looking very pretty, but huge. By any standards, she was ‘on hold’ in anticipation. And now, Samuel Tomos! I do have to concede that there are some things worth waiting for……
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