Recent debate about fancy timepieces had me thinking about my first ever watch, which my dad bought when I was a kid. He was a stickler for punctuality and hated being late for anything. When he gave me the watch it came with sage-like advice. He told me to always set it a few minutes fast so I wouldn't be late, and to this day it has proved wise counsel. Of course it didn't stop me being late, but at least I was two or three minutes earlier in my lateness than I would otherwise have been, if that makes sense.
It was a cheap and rather plain watch, but I grew attached to it and then suddenly lost it, leaving it in the school changing rooms. At my school the chances of someone handing it in were approximately zero. I spotted an older pupil wearing an identical watch just a few days later, but as he was twice my size it felt prudent to keep my trap shut. Football changing rooms were to sporadically claim more watches over the years.
That might explain why I am one of those weird people who doesn't see the point of having an expensive watch, especially as I will most likely lose it. All I require is one that tells the time reasonably accurately. A cheap watch from Pratunam market performs that function just as well as a bejewelled timepiece that costs almost as much as a Ferrari.
And it doesn't matter how expensive your watch might be, it won't prevent you from being late, particularly in Bangkok where arriving on time is something of a minor miracle.
Ticking all the boxes
In these days of mobile phones, people don't need watches to tell the time. So why pay a small fortune for something that is not really necessary? It's possibly because a watch is arguably the only form of jewellery, apart from rings, that a man can wear without getting funny looks. It can also serve as status symbol, letting everyone know that you have "made it", or think you have.
There is another peculiar minority who have a mindset which makes them want something simply because it is expensive. These are the same people who pay 9,999 baht for a bottle of wine when there is a perfectly decent 850 baht bottle of plonk available at the local supermarket (but not if you try and buy it between 2pm and 5pm. What a strange law that is).
Grandma's clock
One form of timepiece I have always had an affection for are grandfather clocks, originally known as "longcase clocks". My grandmother had such a clock in her hallway and when I was a kid it towered over me and had impressively loud chimes sounding every 15 minutes. I was fascinated by the large pendulum and couldn't resist playing with it, which of course didn't help the clock's timekeeping.
Grandfather clocks were so named after the 1876 song My Grandfather's Clock written by Henry Clay Work, an American better known for Marching Through Georgia. He was inspired to write the grandfather lyrics after seeing such a clock in a Durham hotel. He was told that when the first owner died the clock began to lose time and when the second owner passed away it stopped working altogether. Thus the somewhat melancholy chorus:
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born
And was always his pleasure and pride
But it stopped short - never to go again
When the old man died.
Glorious mud
I first heard the Grandfather's Clock song on BBC Radio's Children's Favourites which was almost compulsory listening for British kids on a Saturday morning in the 1950s. It was hosted by "Uncle Mac" who always began the show with "Hello children, everywhere".
The show often featured novelty songs. I particularly liked The Runaway Train and could visualise the steam engine hurtling out of control along the tracks blowing its whistle.
Another personal favourite was The Laughing Policeman, "a jolly red-faced man, who laughed until he cried".
Other regulars were The Hippopotamus Song, with the stirring refrain "Mud, mud, glorious mud", The Ugly Duckling and Nellie the Elephant who famously fled the circus, "packed her trunk and trundled back to the jungle".
I also enjoyed They're Changing Guard at Buckingham Palace featuring AA Milne's Christopher Robin and Alice, and could picture them standing outside the palace hoping to spot a royal personage looking out from behind the curtains.
It struck a chord with me as when I was eight, my mum took me to look at Buckingham Palace and I half-expected to spot a young Queen Elizabeth peering out of a window. Alas she was not to be seen - not even a stray corgi.
Sad seahorses
A story which wish I hadn't seen during the week concerned the "seahorse kebabs" on sale in Pattaya, apparently for Chinese male tourists seeking an aphrodisiac. The seahorses, so named because the head and neck have a distinctive equine appearance, are such beautiful creatures and one of Nature's works of art.
The thought of desperate gentlemen of any nationality munching them on a stick is enough to make you feel quite sick. With a bit of luck the seahorses will strike back with their own version of "Montezuma's revenge".
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