The morning at eight, lost in sleep, the greyness from outside the window seems to seep in and only slowly lighten the room. Rubbish, this is light, and the only thing seeping here is the sleep from the eyes.
Get up and go to the bathroom, it is early, take a shower.
Return to the bedroom, dress in old clothes. Sunday best is for Sunday people, just let it be.
Go to the sitting room, look at the clock, adjusted, repaired, and adjusted again yesterday. It has run all night, the pawl on the pendulum driving the ratchet that drives the works. The ratchet also triggers a small open contact that sends current to an electromagnet that makes up for the energy lost due to friction and the driving of the clocks innards. And the pawl has to be long enough to push the ratchet far enough and at the right angle to disconnect before it has gone to far. The contact has to be in a position that will allow it to be closed for long enough to be effective, and yet to allow it to open when the magnet's services are not reguired. The fixed magnet needs to be moved into the correct position, and the battery has to be put in the right way round.
Still, it ran all night.
Replace the clock's face, the handsome Roman numerals, XII at the top. Put in all four pins to fix it in place. One has dropped onto the floor, a quick annoyed search shows where it is. Put the brass ring onto the face, a halo for the time. Three fiddly little fasteners, each tightened with a knurled nut.
And then press on the hands, first the tiny second hand and then the long minute hand and last the hand for the hours.
All at twelve o'clock.
Start the big brass ball of the pendulum swinging, and watch the hands move for the first five minutes.
Then stop it again.
Wait untill midday to restart it. Do not do it now, do not attempt to set the delicate mechanism.
Get up and go to the bathroom, it is early, take a shower.
Return to the bedroom, dress in old clothes. Sunday best is for Sunday people, just let it be.
Go to the sitting room, look at the clock, adjusted, repaired, and adjusted again yesterday. It has run all night, the pawl on the pendulum driving the ratchet that drives the works. The ratchet also triggers a small open contact that sends current to an electromagnet that makes up for the energy lost due to friction and the driving of the clocks innards. And the pawl has to be long enough to push the ratchet far enough and at the right angle to disconnect before it has gone to far. The contact has to be in a position that will allow it to be closed for long enough to be effective, and yet to allow it to open when the magnet's services are not reguired. The fixed magnet needs to be moved into the correct position, and the battery has to be put in the right way round.
Still, it ran all night.
Replace the clock's face, the handsome Roman numerals, XII at the top. Put in all four pins to fix it in place. One has dropped onto the floor, a quick annoyed search shows where it is. Put the brass ring onto the face, a halo for the time. Three fiddly little fasteners, each tightened with a knurled nut.
And then press on the hands, first the tiny second hand and then the long minute hand and last the hand for the hours.
All at twelve o'clock.
Start the big brass ball of the pendulum swinging, and watch the hands move for the first five minutes.
Then stop it again.
Wait untill midday to restart it. Do not do it now, do not attempt to set the delicate mechanism.
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