大象传媒

The clock in question, was large made of solid wood ? walnut and had silver coloured metal figures and hands, it also had a very loud chime, and stood on the mantlepiece of my parents home. It is in fact quite an Art Deco design. I grew up with the comforting tick, and the chimes, ringing hours and half hours without fault, until I left home at eighteen, then I would hear them on my visits home. I also recall a large metal key which my father would meticulously use to wind the clock, and on rare occasions being able to open the door at the back of the clock to be facinated by the movement, and weights.

I can't recall at exactly what age I was when I heard from my father the story of the clock. He told me he had brought it back from Germany after he served in the war. He was a driver of a vehicle at the D day landings, and during further manoeuvers, he and some colleagues were resting for the night in a bombed out house, somewhere in Germany. His friends grabbed the beds upstairs and he was resigned to a night on the couch downstairs. Settling down, feeling very exhausted, he was just dozing off, when he was jolted awake by a very loud chiming from the clock, he hadn't noticed, in the same room. Unfortunately for him, this continued throughout the night. In the morning, out of sheer frustration, he told me that he thought to himself, "you can come with me", and he wrapped the offending clock up in a piece of old sacking, thrust it in his kit bag and took it with him. When I think of this, my father was a totally honest man throughout his life, so he must have been very frustrated to take something that wasn't his. Also,given the cirumstances, it was quite a bulky object to decide to bring with him! However, he and the clock were to be parted, as he met up with others from his regiment, and he asked someone to take the kit bag back to their base, he realised it was too bulky to carry with him. I doubt if he really thought he would see it again. But, their destiny was to be reunited,at some point, and the clock ended up in our home in Swindon, where it still resides. Over the years, my father shared more memories of his war time experiences, and the clock somehow bears witness to these.

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