Carriage return (object 4)

Carriage clock

Grannie Lane’s carriage clock, complete with its original carrying case: as small, neat and practical as she was herself. With Dad being a watchmaker, I grew up in a house full of beautifully maintained antique clocks, striking and chiming melodically as each hour came around. Most of these were inherited, like this one, and when our turn came my brothers and I chose a clock each. As my small flat could not accommodate the regal grandfather clock in the hall, or the elegant mantel clock from the living room, this tiny ornate timepiece was perfect for me.
The song My Grandfather’s Clock was a favourite of ours as children, but the chorus about how it “stopped, short, never to go again / when the old man died” was of course sadly prophetic: without Dad’s skills and TLC, Grannie’s clock did eventually stop ticking. However I have since had it cleaned and restored by a professional (who charged far more than Dad ever did!) and although it loses a few minutes, I still have the pleasure of the weekly clock-winding ritual. And the gently reassuring tick-tock sound without which, for me, a house is not a home.


About Hoarder of Babylon

A chartered librarian and curator of my family archives.
This entry was posted in Clocks and watches, Dad, Peggy Lane, nee Peigi Murray (maternal grandmother). Bookmark the permalink.

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