Emma Grey - I Dont Have Time: 15-minute ways to shape a life you love

My name is Abigail and I am in 4P.

My topic is I Need More Time and you may be wondering, for what?

Well, to do my homework, eat chocolate, ride a horse, go shopping.

I think we should have 48 hours in a day and 24 hours for a night.

But the downside would be longer school hours, longer homework, longer time your parents have to nag you. It would take a longer time to eat your breakfast and you would get to school late every day

Then you would get shouted at by the teacher because the teacher doesnt like you being late. More time in the world would mean more time sitting in the dentists chair and I already sit in there too long as it is! And what if more time meant having to wait longer for your cake to bake in the oven? Oh no! That would be a disaster!

But, on the upside, if we had twice as much time each day and night, you would have more time to see your friends and travel to meet people in other countries. And another really good thing if we had more time is there would probably, and hopefully, be fewer wars in the world because people would have more time to get to know each other, and understand each other. Then maybe we wouldnt have wars because there wouldnt be anything to fight about.

And what about me?

Personally, if I had more time, I would do all the things I love most in the world:

Go on the computer

Go trail riding every day after school with my favourite horse Sooty

Drink my favourite cookies-and-cream milkshake at Oliver Brown

Go to Fiji on a holiday

Watch How to Train Your Dragon all day

Play netball

Climb every tree and wall I can find

Go shopping for toys and books, especially books, and lots of toys too

Make models with my dad

Play ninjas with my sister in the backyard; and

Go for walks with my mum, without my sister!

Whats that you say? Im out of time? Oh dear, I need more time!

I tried not to think about the ravenous parking meter as I perched for six hours on an unforgiving plastic seat in the arrivals hall at Canberra airport. My then fourteen-year-old, Sophie, and her best friend were hoping to catch a glimpse of American YouTuber Colleen Ballinger. Colleens alter ego, the hapless Miranda Sings, has a cult following so fanatical her madcap spoof on self-help books was propelled to the top of the New York Times bestseller list a mere 24 hours after its pre-launch. Perhaps I was quietly fangirling about that too

We knew Colleen had performed at the Melbourne Comedy Festival the evening before. We knew she was scheduled to perform in Canberra that night. The missing detail was which flight shed be on, which is why wed found ourselves at a virtually empty airport just after dawn.

The girls were resplendent in Mirandas trademark costume: a mens striped shirt tucked into red track pants with Haters back off emblazoned on the rear, clashing pink Crocs and too much red lipstick. I was dressed normally and held onto the first of several strong cappuccinos, hoping that this wouldnt be a wild goose chase. Quietly lurking in a security-rich environment for hours with the teens decked out as identical nerds, clutching glittery posters, was bound to attract attention. The girls were stared at, photographed by tourists and even approached by the police at one point.

Who are you waiting for?

Miranda Sings.

Who?

Exactly.

Eventually, in the early afternoon we reached a point where we just wanted to go home. At least I did. It was reminiscent of the transition stage of labour. I honestly couldnt do this any longer. I wanted an epidural.

Turning to Facebook, I hoped to be galvanized by messages of support from my friends. What I received instead was more along the lines of: Five hours? Are you crazy? Who has time to waste doing this on a Sunday? Dont you have better things to do?

I did have other things. But were they better?

Somewhere in the sixth hour we turned our bloodshot eyes towards the arrivals gate for the umpteenth time. Were we hallucinating? Or was that her (wearing a normal amount of lipstick and normal clothes)? As the escalator conveyed the online superstar towards us, along with her then fianc (also a famous YouTuber) I sent a silent prayer to the Gods of Social Media and Celebrity Chasing: Please take a second to stop and say hello!

The automatic glass doors parted. She glanced up from her phone, saw the girls, broke into a smile and went straight into their arms with the type of hug usually reserved for long-lost friends. Then she introduced us to her sister (another YouTuber), posed for photos and promised to follow them both on Instagram. When youre fourteen, and youve been waiting six and a half hours to meet your online idol, an Instagram follow is your life.

But this story isnt about any of that. Not really.

Fast-forward a few weeks, and the same two girls were upset when I collected them from school. A friends mum had developed worrying symptoms of memory loss and confusion. She hadnt recognized her own child. The likely diagnosis was early-onset dementia. In her forties. My age.