On a Friday evening in May 2018 I am going to see the Broadway show Hamilton. We had to book the tickets two weeks ago. Fair enough, you might say — some theatre tickets sell out long before rehearsals have begun. Nonetheless, it seems a madly long way off and what if I forget about it between now and then?
This week I’ve tried to pencil in the cinema with a group of friends — no one was free until April — and Saturday supper with a couple: they couldn’t do until July.
Jenny Coad discusses spontaneity with Isabel Hardman:
This is far from unusual. My diary tends to be filled weeks in advance and there is little room for unexpected pleasures without a shamefaced untangling of best-laid plans. Most of us are masters at unpicking things that sounded like a nice idea at the time. The builder is in. The children are poorly. I’m stuck at work.
All of which makes me wonder if we are over-organising our lives for no good reason at all. Being busy for the sake of it. Whatever happened to spontaneity? Even free time has become a thing we cling to, written in bold, desperate caps: KEEP FREE.
When was the last time a friend phoned at teatime and changed the course of your evening? Well, that would have been so nice, but you spent days filling in an online doodle calendar some weeks ago and you’re committed that night, so sorry.
‘Fancy a drink after work?’ ‘Love to, but are you around three weeks on Friday?’
It is rare to leave weekends entirely clear simply to take advantage of whatever might come your way. And if you do, it might be because you want to do nothing at all.
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