Taking time out
I like clocks.
I’m not talking about those modern yokes that need a battery, but rather the real ones that require winding. Comparing the two is like comparing a diesel locomotive with a steam engine. Modern clocks may tell the time correctly but they lack soul.
Many years ago I bought a Highland clock [or as some call ’em, a short-case clock]. I got it in an old junk shop and it has been merrily keeping time since with a gentle tick and loud bongs on the hour and half-hour. I love that clock and it brings back happy memories. It’s part of the atmosphere of the house.
Last week, the bongs stopped.
It was due a bit of tender care and cleaning anyway so I took it down and dismantled it.
I removed the hands, the pendulum and the face and then gently eased out the clockwork from the body. As I suspected, the bong spring and the tick spring were both overwound. It was just a matter of easing the tension on them. To do that, I inserted the key, put a bit of tension on it and released the ratchet. Fine. Did a half turn and then repeated. There was a long way to go but I was taking it slowly and carefully.
Then the ratchet slipped.
An overwound spring is quite a powerful fucker, and releasing it without restraint is the mechanical equivalent of shorting out a battery. The key was still inserted and suddenly it went into a violent and incredibly fast spin. And has luck would have it, my hand was still in the vicinity and two of my fingers took the brunt. They both went blue and numb. It was really fucking painful.
I eventually managed to release both the bong spring and the tick spring and set to work cleaning the works. I then discovered that the sudden and immense release of tension on the spring had caused some damage. Bollox!
At this stage I was having to work with only two fingers and a thumb on the right hand. However, a clip needed removing, the screwdriver sipped and I took the knuckle off one of the remaining fingers. I was now down to a thumb and an index finger on the right hand.
I carried on regardless, pumping blood all over the place. I managed to repair the damage and got the bongs to work. Brilliant!
I reassembled the whole thing and hung it back on the sitting room wall.
Two minutes later it stopped ticking. Fuck!
Where I had a tick and no bong, I now had a bong but no tick.
I took it down again and stripped it to pieces once more. I found a problem – an axle pin had jumped out so I eased it gently into place. I reassembled everything and hung it back on the wall.
Ten minutes later it stopped again.
It’s currently lying on its back on the kitchen table waiting for its next operation, while I enjoy a well earned mug of tea. I’m not going to give up on it. I’m stubborn, like that. Herself suggested a new clock but I said no – I like the old one.
I suppose I had better get back to it….
Time waits for no man.
Whenever I take something apart (which I do often, being an inveterate tinkerer) my heart always sinks when there are springs involved, because I know from past experience that springs always go ‘sproing!’ when you don’t want them to. and they never leave any indication of how they were originally mounted, And they usually involve personal injury. I can’t tell you how much of my blood has been spilled dealing with springs. Probably enough to stock a medium sized blood bank.
Grandad,
I’m very disappointed in your post regarding fixing a clock and injuries sustained.
It’s obvious from your post that no Risk Assessment was prepared on the appropriate forms prior to the task being undertaken so I must assume no pre-job safety meeting was held and documented.
Did you read and understand the safety documents that came with the clock relating to springs?
From wot you typed we can assume that the correct safety clothing was not used; hard hat? safety glasses? safety boots? High viz jacket? Safety gloves? No? Why not? And the old excuse that the job was too fiddly to use gloves won’t wash, okay?
I also hope you didn’t reach and stretch to get the clock off the wall and I’m sure you didn’t stand on a stool or chair to remove it but used a step ladder of the correct dimensions and configuration, right? Did you read the step ladder safety document and inspect the ladder and document the inspection? Did you only climb, as recommended, only three of the six provided steps? Did you always ensure at least one hand was safely holding the steps grab rail? If you had to use both hands to remove the clock, thus not holding the step grab rail at all, did you use a fall arrestor? One with a valid inspection and test certificate issued by a third party authority? Was the area cordoned off and traffic diverted?
If the answer to any of the above is ‘No’ then it’s no wonder you nipped your fingers and I have no sympathy…
I may have pointed you to this before, sorry, but it makes me smile;
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4n-amRJeyw
I will have you know that the Risk Assessment nearly cost me my life.
I did indeed shut down the main road in both directions and evacuated everyone within a quarter mile radius. I donned my hart hat and carefully measured the angle from the vertical for the ladder. Having climbed to the very top of the ladder to tie it off [as per regulations] I discovered that there was nothing to tie it to. I managed to find a piton and a lump hammer and climbed to the top of the ladder again. Unfortunately the act of hammering a piton into solid granite requires two hands where regulations state that I must hold onto the ladder with at least one hand at all times. In my attempt to hammer in the piton, with my left hand holding the ladder, my right hand holding the hammer and the piton between my teeth, I slipped. I fell to the floor and my hart hat dropped on the dog [who had managed to sneak in past the safety cordon]. My cries for help went unanswered as everyone was at least a quarter of a mile away.
Don’t talk to me about fucking Elf and Saferty.
Nut Inspectors are the most important technologists in any machinery factory.
Grandad: if you were repairing the clock in the kitchen, that was your first mistake: “The kitchen is where some of the most serious home accidents occur.” RoSPA
(BTW, it’s a well-known fact that, in the case of itty-bitty springs, they invariably ‘sproing!’ into some dark corner under furniture.)
Loved your post, Mac!
Lisboeta,
Thank you.
Ah! That explains it. I did work on it in the kitchen. Maybe I should choose the safest room next time? The toilet?