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Time out on holidays should be taken literally: no deadlines, no appointments, no schedules.
It should be a period of complete rest and relaxation, when time drifts by and there is no compunction to busy oneself.
The Pacific islanders do it well: "Chill man, you're on Fiji time" is their mantra.
There is little hurry in them, little stress, life meanders at a friendly, affable pace. That also means expectations must be fluid and flexible - god forbid if you want breakfast on the dot of 8 or expect that snorkelling trip to kick off bang on 10.
But for all that, it's good to have a rough idea of the holiday hours drifting by, even if just to announce to all and sundry: "Blow me down, it's beer/wine o'clock already."
With the wristwatch discarded and the smart phone switched off, a discrete clock that you can glance at as you pass from kitchen to lounge chair to outdoor hammock is ideal.
Last week we booked into a holiday apartment and I went looking for such a timepiece.
The bedside clock radio came to life when plugged in but despite our best efforts wouldn't budge from 18.24.
We moved into the kitchen where the microwave was running two hours and 37 minutes behind. We got the clock symbol to flash and set it at 2:53. Ten seconds later it reverted to 12:16. We persisted, trying different combinations, but there was no way it was going to be micro-managed.
Garry drifted over to the locked-in-time clock on the wall and inserted a new battery. Even this failed to induce the hands to find their rhythm.
I looked at the fridge, which was set on pre-daylight saving time and pressed the clock button. It told me the fridge was 4 degrees and the freezer minus 18 degrees, it gave me the option to quick freeze, drinks chill or holiday mode but no pointers as to how to adjust the time.
The stove was an even bigger challenge. Not only could we not set the digital clock but once switched on, random hotplates flared red then died as quickly as they came to life.
The instruction manual gave us little joy and cooking teriyaki chicken that night became a merry-go-round the electric hob as we chased the heat from plate to plate.
Ah, the challenges of unfamiliar modern electric appliances.
The clothes dryer baffled us for a bit but finally it kicked into gear. Like everything else in this place, the timer doesn't work but we can live with that.
Really the star of the show in this holiday apartment is the older washing machine. It doesn't have a timing option - which is maybe why it doesn't miss a beat - just a couple of knobs to turn and away she goes. Amazing.
The question is: Why do all these whiz-bang appliances have to be so complicated? So much for time saving; I'm sure we spent a combined two hours trying to get our heads around them - and still didn't win.
And stress? Well, we got mildly frustrated but then accepted the fridge clock running one hour behind wasn't such a bad thing.
It feels good to discover we have emerged to start the day at 6 instead of 7 and are wrapping it up at 10 instead of 11.
Perhaps this is a deliberate ploy by the owners. They've disabled all the other clocks and permanently jammed the fridge in holiday mode.
That leaves me one option: to head to the beach and chill.