Time

As a schoolboy, I had a fascination with time. What I really wanted was a wristwatch. And the one that really appealed to me was the Omega, probably due to its classic advertisement "I don't want to set the world on fire".

One Christmas, I must've been about 10 years old, I received a wristwatch from my father. I was overjoyed. It had luminous hands, luminous dots under the figures, which glowed eerily in the dark. In small letters, at the bottom of the dial were the words "swiss made" but somehow I didn't believe it.

In those days, people were unaware of the dangers of radio activity.

Before the New Year had arrived, the watch had stopped. My father shook it, shook his head, and said he would send it back and get a replacement, which arrived in the post a couple of weeks later.

It was a special offer promoted by the daily express I believe, and this one lasted well into the summer before it too began stopping at odd times of its own accord.

I learnt then, that a watch that does not keep good time is worse than no watch at all.

A couple of years later, I was talking to the father of one of my friends who happened to be a watch repairer.

I was fascinated. He showed me various watches he was working on, he explained that a pocket watch was much more reliable than a wristwatch, he said 17 jewels were sufficient, and showed me the tiny rubies in the escapement.

He sold me a secondhand watch that he had repaired, "it's only got a pin pallet movement – it's not a jewelled movement, but it's Swiss made, and good quality" it cost me several weeks pocket money.

I was very proud of my Swiss Watch, and it kept perfect time for weeks and weeks, until one day I couldn't find it.

My mother was very houseproud, and insisted on cleaning and tidying my bedroom every day.

I asked her if she had seen my watch.

She told me I had left it in the pocket of my jeans, that it had gone through the washing machine, and so she had thrown it away.

I wanted to believe her, but when it wasn't on my wrist, it lived on the shelf by my bed.

A year later, after my parents had been on a shopping trip to London, I was given a wristwatch. This one was gold plated, and made by a company called Newmark, the movement was very crude, it had no second hand, and the case came apart rather easily.

after a few months, the gold had worn off, and the timekeeping became very erratic.

At a party, a friend of mine, whose father mended watches as a hobby, said that he would fix it for me. A while later, he handed it to me, fully wound, with the hands racing round at several hours a minute. He had of course removed the balance wheel.

I bought one of the first digital watches, it came at a special price as a promotion by a cigar manufacturer. It had red LEDs, set in a black plastic case, with a push button to illuminate them, which when pressed twice would also show the date. I thought it was the ultimate in cool.

It kept perfect time for well over a year, until the battery ran out. I bought a new battery, but unfortunately I fitted it upside down and killed it.

Over the succeeding decades, I got through a number of watches, some of which vanished without a trace, much to my sadness.

Finally, my first mobile phone told me the precise time, and I had no need of a wristwatch.

I guess, by some quirk of delayed gratification, or wish fulfilment perhaps, after a dear friend and neighbour whom I cared for over a number of years died, I came into the possession of her husband's collection of odds and ends, among which was a gold Omega.

It has a superb movement, and ticks so quietly, but I wear it very rarely.

Appropriately, it has a black dial, and sits safely in my bedside cabinet, reminding me of a dear friendship of past times.