The clock – heartbeat of the home.

Stick with me on this one, I’ll get there eventually it’s a bit of a ramble but I promise I’ll get there.

It’s 04:45 in the morning and I am awake. I’m beside my lovely wife in a bed in her friend’s house in Sunbury west London. It’s a lovely old house with a beautiful back garden in one of Londons leafier suburbs. I’m awake as I’m listening to a beautiful dawn chorus where the birds have awoken and are obviously discussing avian issues quite vocally and beautifully through birdsong. It s a lovely sound and one of natures most pleasant daily occurrences, by the sounds of it it’s going to be a lovely sunny day.

I’m blessed with exceptionally good hearing. Some may call it a curse but to me it’s a godsend. My wife states that i,”Can hear a fly fart from 50ft away” and she’s probably not wrong to be honest. It’s a godsend, as it seems the female members of her family, yes all of them, have particularly bad hearing and my dear wife is in fact registered as partially deaf, and if it wasn’t for her super duper high tech hearing devices she would more than likely be totally deaf. Therefore, my superb hearing doubles as her safety blanket when I am with her. It’s just one of those strange coincidences in life when you are magically paired with someone to be their help, in their time of need. I’ve already stated in earlier posts how she has helped and nurtured me through our life together. There is truly a mystical tie that binds.

I dropped my wife off at her friends house about 11 days ago, just prior to me heading back north to begin a stint of night shifts. It’s allowed the two of them to have some real good time with each other to catch up and do the things they enjoy doing. Her friend as you would already know, if you follow my journal posts, had some quite serious issues last year with some mental health issues after the passing of her long time partner a couple of years back. The wife switched into full time angel mode to help her, and I remain so proud of them for what they have both achieved. You don’t just suddenly get better from such an episode, but she has improved so much she is pretty much back to the old her we used to know, and have always loved. Thankfully my wife has a constant eye on her, and is speaking to her at least 3-4 times a day, so there is really no chance of her sinking back into the abyss she has just come out from, as my wife firmly has hold of the support rope keeping her back from falling down once again.

Now the clock analogy. I love clocks. Good old fashioned clocks that tick mechanically, not the digital versions that silently do their thing within the scope of silence. I’ve stated that my hearing is above par, and you’d think noise would be a curse. Well it is sometimes. In a silent house such as our own that has those very same digital clocks, I do hear everything. It’s an old house that makes noises. Pipes clank, floorboards creak and changes in temperature cause expansion and contraction noises all around. My hearing is such that I’m not at peace until I can associate a noise with the potential creator, yes I overthink even when I am attempting to sleep, i want total silence and that is not possible in an old house.

However at my wife’s friend’s house it is different. It’s an old house, digital clocks do not exist here and all clocks are mechanical, this house has a heartbeat. I have something to focus on and that comforts me into the most peaceful sleep, and awakes me at the other end with the most wonderful birdsong from outside. I love it.

When I delivered my wife here 11 days ago I had focussed on that clock heartbeat in our bedroom only to be mystified as to why, half way through the night the clock had stopped ticking, its heart had stopped. Why?

It became apparent the next morning that I looked at the clock that the hour hand was bent out of shape, and on its journey around the clock face the minute hand had clashed with it and it had come to an abrupt stop. This had occurred, and come to light when her friend had spoken with her step-son and found out that he hated the sound of a ticking clock and had fumbled in the night to hide it away causing the damage to the two hands.

Now as you know, I love fixing stuff and this item needed my help. The hands were very delicate and to be honest I didn’t think they were strong enough to take being bent back into shape. I used some tweezers and gently moved them back into position and I was able to restore that heartbeat.

I sit here now writing, getting great comfort from that ticking in the background. I don’t know why, I can only presume that like a child laying against its mothers breast, they gain great comfort from hearing their mothers heart beating. Maybe it’s the same with me? That constant, accurate non stop repetitive sound gives me something to focus on, turning my good hearing away from all the other little distractions that keep me awake.

I know one thing, I’m on the lookout for a good old fashioned mantle clock, or wall clock to have within listening distance of the bedroom at our house, that I can focus on.

I wish I could have been a horologist, working on clocks is tantamount to being a heart surgeon in my eyes. A most fantastic invention, and how I would love to be someone who looks after these fantastic mechanical masterpieces, however my eyesight is what lets me down here. But guess what? My wife’s eyesight is perfect. See, we are truly made for each other!

A house needs a heartbeat.

Have a super day everyone.