No sound is more soothing in a quiet house than the gentle tick tick of a clock. Unless it’s the sound of children sleeping, that is.
We’ve been extremely fortunate to have been given a grandfather clock by my lovely sister-in-law. It belonged to her Great Grandfather and is now residing in Dibley Mews. After an initial issue with the winding mechanism due to human error, it now ticks and bongs away quite happily. The only issue is remembering to wind it. For some unknown reason it’s on a 30 hour mechanism, so I’ve had to start remembering to hoick the counterweight up (that’s the technical term) every morning. Because I can’t figure out how to reset the time if it stops ticking. I can’t ask my Dad every day to pop over and show me just one more time. Pun intended. Heaven only knows what I’ll do when we go away. Perhaps The Boo will use her paws to wind it for me.
Removal of the bell was necessary as we were jolted when it actually rang for the first time. How loud can a boing be? Very, it turns out. So now it ticks away, and every hour does what sounds like a soft shoe shuffle which catches you unawares and makes you think we’re hosting burglars if you don’t remember the clock in time.
Just to add to the complications it is losing time. So it’s currently ten minutes fast. The amount of time it loses varies each day, and is quite entertaining although very frustrating at the same time. Apparently this is due to the fact it’s not quite level, but frankly it just adds to the novelty for me to go ‘OOH, five boings? It’s 4.25!’
It’s high maintenance, and I love it.