Grandfather

Where are you now, Grandfather? I hope wherever you are, your owners are looking after you. I hope they are keeping you wound-up each week - not in a vigorous manner– but with a slow, steady turning of the handle so that the metal weights gradually rise from the bottom of your long case to just beneath your face. I hope they keep your cogs regularly oiled, your timing adjusted, and your moon-dial correctly aligned with its celestial counterpart. I hope they keep your white enamel face clean, and polish your mahogany and oak panels. You left us in the Sotheby sale on Monday 8^th May 1995. That seems a long time ago, but we still remember you, and how you occupied pride of place in our various homes. You came with us to each new address. In fact, when contemplating a move, we would ask ourselves: “Will Grandfather fit in?” This meant measuring the distance between floor and ceiling in the proposed dwelling to see if there was enough room. Very often this would influence our buying decision. And there you would stand once again, majestically, lord of the household, your rhythmic tick-tock and hourly chime measuring the day and night. It was almost as if you were commanding time, not recording it. To you, time was a capricious element – sometimes rushing ahead, sometimes lagging behind – and it was your job to keep it in line. You were the steadying influence. When awake during the night, your steady beat would comfort us, and your hourly chimes would tell us all was well.

But then came that fateful day when we had to part. Maybe our family had grown up – maybe it was the end of an era – maybe we both needed to start a new life – maybe we felt it was now our turn to keep control of time. But we did know it was a matter of circumstance rather than the measuring tape this time. You were listed in the Sotheby catalogue as a George III Longcase English clock circa 1820 made by Jas Powell, Worcester. Impressive, no doubt, but how impersonal. To us you will always be “Grandfather”. I hope you live forever.