Children, traffic and the friend who's later than you

When you have small children to get out of the house. The record is still the method, and the record will be long. Getting two children into coats and shoes and a car can take a quarter of an hour that feels like five minutes, and every part of it can go wrong. Time it over two weeks like anything else, take the bad-day figure, and add a bigger cushion than you would for yourself. Get the children ready before you get yourself ready, because a child in a coat can wait and a child without shoes can't. And accept that with very small children you'll sometimes be late anyway, and that everyone with small children knows it, and that a message with a time is all that's needed.

When you're carrying too much. If the reason you're late is that you have more to do between six and nine than can be done between six and nine, the door time won't fix it. What's needed is for something to leave the morning, or for someone to take part of it. That's a conversation with a partner, an employer or a family, and it's a bigger one than this book. But have it, because the alternative is to be late for years and to think it's your timekeeping.

When the traffic really is unpredictable. Some journeys vary by half an hour from day to day, and a cushion that covers the worst day means an hour wasted on the best. I'd set the cushion at the ordinary bad day and accept that the extraordinary ones will make you late. Then say so, early, with a time. Being late once a month because of a closed road is not this habit. Being late every week because of "traffic" that's the same every week is.

When you're going to be late anyway. It'll happen. The moment you know, before you do anything else, send a message with a time. "Running fifteen minutes late, start without me." Then travel normally. When you arrive, one short sorry, no story, and get on with it. The story is for you, not them, and they've heard it before.

When the other person is later than you. You'll notice it more, now that you're on time, and you may feel the small grievance that chapter 8 described. Say nothing the first few times. If it goes on, say once, plainly and without heat, that you've been waiting and you'd rather they told you a real time. You're now in a position to ask for that, which you weren't before.

When the host says "come any time." Some do mean it. If the invitation gives a range, arrive inside the range, near the start. If it gives a time, arrive at the time, and if you're early, walk round the block.

When work meetings overrun and make you late for the next one. That's not your estimate. That's the meeting. Say at the start that you have to leave at a certain time, and leave then. People rarely mind, and you'll be surprised how often the meeting finishes when its most reliable member stands up.

When you find early time unbearable. Some people feel a real anxiety at being early, a sense of being exposed or of having got it wrong. If that's you, start with two or three minutes early rather than ten, and bring something to do. The feeling fades with practice, in my observation.

When lateness comes with a lifetime of losing things and not finishing. The first caution in this book said that lifelong trouble organising time, along with being easily distracted, losing things and finding it hard to finish tasks, can be a sign of ADHD, and that the NHS advises a GP if it's affecting work or relationships. The methods here can still help with the door. They aren't the whole answer if that's the situation, and a GP can say what else is.

When you've recently become late to everything. A change in reliability that comes with low mood, poor sleep or a loss of interest in things is a change in your health. See a GP.

When you slip. You'll do the last thing, and you'll be late, and you'll know why. That's useful. It's information about which part of the method you skipped. Don't decide that the method doesn't work or that you're back where you started. Look at which alarm you ignored, and set it again for tomorrow.