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What, no watch? How d’you
tell the time, then?
I haven’t worn a wrist
watch since I took voluntary redundancy from the Civil Service in April 1994.
And, whilst many people ask me how I manage, I wonder why they continue to rely
on a personal timepiece.
Every room in the house,
except the smallest, has at least one clock ticking away the seconds. The
sitting room mantel carries a carriage clock. The kitchen has a fruity round
affair clinging to the wall, and digital displays on cooker, microwave and
central heating controls. The bedroom has a self-correcting electric clock
radio courtesy of my late step-mother; it wakes me with enough noise to rouse
the citizens of Edinburgh. My daughter sleeps through her battery operated
alarm, so I’ve installed an insistent radio alarm to ensure she escapes her bed
before lunch. And my study contains a small ticking souvenir from a forgotten
holiday, as well as the digital display at the bottom right of the computer
screen. Every High Street I tread, with heavy, reluctant footfall, measures the
passing of the hours with clocks in abundance, in the windows of the many
jewellers or on the faces and towers of ugly municipal buildings. At the office
(I had to return to employment to earn a living, unfortunately) there are
clocks on all four walls, each recording a different time. One of these has
forgotten it’s summer and continues to dwell in the winter of GMT. Every bus
terminus, train station, and airport lounge sports clocks a plenty. My car, an
inexpensive and not quite antique model, holds a clock amongst the various
dials, switches and gauges that aid the driver. And, should I find myself stranded
in the middle of nowhere, cruelly deprived of public timepieces; what’s in my
pocket? Right; a mobile phone with, guess what? A time display.
In all the hours, days,
weeks, months and years since I abandoned my personal reminder of time passing,
I’ve never missed a bus, train or appointment. And I travel by public transport
more frequently than I’d prefer: it’s cheap and helps save the planet,
apparently.
So I ask; if I can live a
modern life without one, why do so many people wear watches? Why are they so
keen on constantly monitoring the ebbing of their lives? I find only two
credible answers to this conundrum, and I suspect they’re closely linked. One
is simple vanity, of course; a love of something special attached to the person
to adorn and beautify, like any item of jewellery. The other is status, where
the brand, style or material of the device declares its owner either rich or
special. Thus; the designer watch, which tells the world how stylish and
comfortably off is its wearer, or the timepiece with so many features it
requires a heavy duty strap and over-developed biceps to be carried and remain
in place, and reveals its user as a man of action, who thinks nothing of diving
30 metres into water, regardless of the need. And, we mustn’t neglect the
hideously expensive watch, which describes its wearer not simply as
inordinately wealthy but as boastful and lacking in basic common sense.
Now I’ve upset, angered,
irritated and alienated almost everybody, I’ll take a minute to consider my
stance on this.
Nope; still feel the same
way.
Damn! Just missed the last
post.
