Sunday, 9 October 2016

Clocks.
Last week my bedside clock stopped working and I miss it.

It was a fairly ordinary clock except that its face sloped upwards, making it very easy to read when I woke in the night.  And it didn’t tick!

The original clock


I’ve bought a replacement – it doesn’t tick either. It’s small and neat and digital but it has no character.  It is simply functional and I hate it.

 
The new clock.










 ‘Why use a clock at all?’ I hear you ask, ‘when a Smartphone shows the time.’  But a phone has to be picked up and “bothered with.” A clock doesn’t. The old one wasn’t expensive.  In fact it came as a free gift when I bought a double bed nearly 25 years ago.  It remained constant through births and deaths, grandchildren and family pets.  Its alarm used to wake me in time to sit up in bed and write for an hour before the day began either at home or at the office.  And it was a friendly face when I came back exhilarated or depressed.
It was there as the double bed changed to a single one, curtains were renewed and cheerful wallpaper replaced the plain walls.
The old clock was such a friend that I can’t throw it away.  I’ll keep it in the cupboard and take it out occasionally to remind me of all that’s happened in the last 25 years.

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