I love traditional clocks which announce their presence with a loud tick tock, tick tock. I like the many and varied chimes which clocks produce, some musical others not.
Many modern clocks are mere shadows of their great predecessors, they neither tick nor chime. Today’s clocks are, on the whole utilitarian objects which can be thrown away without conpunction once they reach the end of their useful life.
On hearing the ticking of a traditional clock one has a real sense of time passing never to be recalled. Each swing of the pendulum is a movement of the Grim Reper’s sithe approaching, however inperceptibly nearer and nearer. I have very little vision but, when I stand close to a long case clock I can see it’s pendulum moving rythmically to and throw. The movement of the pendulum can induce in me a trance like state, it is as though some hypnotist had me in his thrall.
To be surrounded by books with a clock measuring time in the background is one of my happiest memories. The clock chimes, I am aware of the sound but continue reading so engrossed am I in my reading. I recollect the feel of the oak table underneath my braille book as I read and the scent of furniture polish which perfumes the air. I am at peace.
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