My Grandfather loved to collect clocks. Don’t ask me why. The sound of the hundreds he had ticking insanely in his shed was enough to send me crazy.
He loved things to be nailed down and if it wasn’t nailed down when he got it, it was certainly nailed down not long after he did get it.
The half clock as he called it had a pride of place. He was convinced that the person who made it had time management issues and the half clock represented an attempt at a subtle metaphor.
He would get as mad as a cut snake when anyone dared to make sense of his shed and his life in general.
Now he has passed on.
The non-ticking half clock sits on my mantle.