Feest Isolation Days – 29 July
The clock stopped. The one in my study that has been going for years and years and years. The battery needs to change and then off we go again. But this time, the battery change didn’t do it. It had had enough. The mechanism was kaput. I tried to find another one on the web, but there didn’t seem to be any such thing. I’d bought it so long ago…in fact it might have even been pre internet. Remember those days? When there wasn’t anything you could purchase if you didn’t go to a shop or look through a catalogue. Sadly, the clock isn’t around for sale anymore. It’s a reproduction of a clock face that was once a grandfather clock. I can buy the real deal grandfather clock, but there is already a grandfather clock in this house. One grandfather clock is plenty in a household. Ours doesn’t bong (in fact, it does, very loudly, so I have stopped the bong – ed), it just tick tocks. Which is fine by me. My study isn’t the same without the friendly tick tick of my clock. It doesn’t tock. It just ticks. One of those.
Somehow the day zipped by today. I wonder if that is because I spent so much time thinking about clocks? Or how much I love my study. Or how I hate change. I don’t want a different clock hanging on my wall! I want the same one. I need the same reassuring tick to accompany me as I sit in front of the same window I have sat in front of for nearly twenty nine years. I think the clock has probably been here that long but I can’t remember. Too much has changed. I want to keep the things the way they were where I can. Am I alone in this? Or do we all want to hang onto what we know. Yes, we want to move on a bit and go forward and grow but we also want to keep the things we can that remind us where we’ve been. And who we’ve been on this journey with.
Our grandfather clock is special. It belonged to old friends of my husband. His family and their family were as close as close can be. Their daughter was a little younger than my husband, and like him, an only child. The two families spent many hours together on holidays and outings. He remembered the grandfather clock in their house with deep affection from his youth. When the previous owner of the clock died, the clock came to our house to live. I do wonder sometimes who will love our clock the most and take it to live with them when we are no longer around to wind it up. These thoughts don’t feel in the least melancholy or dark, and I’m pleased about that. There were times in my life when I was younger when I could never even think about the possibility of not being here anymore. Those thoughts aren’t scary as they once were. I don’t want that to happen anytime soon I hasten to add, but I don’t fear that eventuality the way I did when I was younger.
Maybe there really is something to this business of us all slowing down and having time to just think a bit more about life and the inevitable. Useful sometimes, I suppose. On the other hand……
Is always best!
I’m delighted to say that my clever husband was able to sort my clock out. He got an entirely new mechanism that will just replace the old one. Thanks to Mr. Google and the ingenuity of my man.
I’ve had time to think lots of things through and now can we please get back to normal? Concerts, theatre, travel, holidays, swimming. The lot. I want it all back – now. Covid seems to mean our planet’s clock is not quite right. Could someone please change the battery? Covid. Harrump!
With love
Kathy x