Friday, 15 April 2016

The Sale Room Clock 10

  1. This blog story is about the purchase of a clock from the same sale room the is referred to in blog 9 about the boiler and it fuel.

    This is an incident/purchase that we made at a sale room, it's about a clock, I'm sitting in front of the blady thing now, it aint as if we were short of clocks.
    There's seven I can see now in the sitting room three in the kitchen, one in the hall, five in my bedroom, two in the next bedroom and two in the small bedroom, oh yes and one in the garage come workshop, 21 all together.
    They were well spread out when were in the big old farm house, but now om in a small retirement house (thank goodness) they look a bit crowded.

    We loved to go to the Sale Room ----- The Clock

    Some years ago we loved to go, to a sale room down the town,
    It was Hall & Lloyds the furniture place, for nick knacks was renown,
    Ya could go down the day before, and see what brought in for sale,
    Never know what would be in there, a jumble of house hold regale.

    Hundreds of lots, all in lines, and picture on the walls,
    Tables chairs cupboards sideboards, sold when the hammer falls,
    Whole house furniture shuffled in there, from beds and tools and saws,
    To the carpets and matts and the contents of the kitchen draws.

    A clock we spotted, a mantle clock, brass with a nice glass dome,
    We hadna seen it before the sale, we’d love to take it home,
    The auctioneer took some bids, there was no time to back out,
    A bid we put in and then another, it was knocked down with a shout.

    The clock was handed, hand over hand, to the back of the crowd,
    The last one who handed the clock turn to me and said reet loud,
    It only bloody plastic ya know, and tis true it had no weight,
    We’d paid through the nose, an imposter, but easy to cremate.

    So now I watch it, with three weights, moving round and back,
    But when its touched it stops agen, od love to give it a smack,
    With a two-pound lump hammer, the pleasure that would give,
    But I’m stopped, om told it looks the part, let the bloody thing live.

    It’s now bin twenty years, still sitting on our shelf, --- Amen,
    Don’t touch it don’t dust it, a new battery every now and then,
    If left to me, find it a new home, its weight is no use for scrap
    As soon as I first touched it, I knew the dam thing were crap.

    Owd Fred​

    It has to stand perfectly level and has two screw feet at the front to get it absolutely plumb, and they have to be re-set every time you touch it, it stops, or when you change the battery. It isn’t as though it gets a violent vibration on it, that rattles the screw feet down.
    But it does keep good time, when it is going

    The mind of a man is like a clock that is always running down, and requires to be constantly wound up.
    William Hazlitt (1778 - 1830)

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