A long time ago it was not necessary to open your iPhone to find out the time because you would have a watch on your wrist or, if indoors, you would have a handsome clock on your mantelpiece, just as in the background of this group posed to have everyone looking in the same direction. No posing was done in the next photo – someone off-stage is creating mirth.
It’s Christmas time about twenty years ago. The house is my daughter’s, the man my son, the children his niece and nephew, and the clock had been part of my husband’s collection. For clocks and clock books were one of his hobbies. He collected a few, he studied their workings and took them to bits and then re-assembled them, he read about them and a couple of times constructed a new clock from pieces of old clocks. Unfortunately no-one told me that one day in the future I would find a group called Sepia Saturday where photos play an important role and so few photos were taken. (BTW, Jo, I knitted the cotton Father Xmas jumper.)
Here are some books and papers from his collection.
Back in the early 1980s there was this photo of my daughter with his home-made wall clock. It began with a re-cycled clock face, then there was a brand new pendulum with a brass weight. My husband designed the wooden case and out of sight at the top of the clock was a square battery which was organized so that something clicked around and every 30 seconds made a connection which gave a nudge to the pendulum. Just don’t ask me how that worked but it helped the clock to keep good time instead of slowing down.
Earlier still, in October of 1948, another clock in the background when the Adelaide College of Music Drum and Fife Band performed “My Grandfather’s Clock” at the Tivoli Theatre. in Adelaide. Thanks to friends P and G Flynn for this image.
My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor;
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride;
But it stopped short never to go again,
When the old man died.
Ninety years without slumbering, tick, tock, tick, tock,
His life seconds numbering, tick, tock, tick, tock,
It stopped short never to go again,
When the old man died.
Have a look at other blogs inspired by this week’s Sepia Saturday image.