It should not be curious that I have throughout my life dedicated much to timepieces and clocks.  When my paternal grandfather died he reportedly had a collection of something approaching 20 timepieces, three of which I inherited. One, that I recall, was a wristwatch made by a company I had never heard before.  Another was a more memorable piece, a large sterling silver pocket watch with a windup key.  I had that watch completely overhauled and cleaned.  But it was too heavy to be of any daily use to me.  I ended selling it to the baker whose shop adjoined my law office at 77 Little Bridge Street. By contrast, the third watch was a Pochélon et frères gold pocket watch with a 9K gold chain to which was attached a Masonic symbol (square and compass).  The significance of 9K gold is that because of its alloy (copper) it is strong and durable; but the downside is that the copper bleeds onto the fabric of one’s clothing – a mutation I discovered when wearing my vanilla coloured waistcoat. I ended giving this piece to my goddaughter because she had a taste for antiquities and – by the time I retired from the practice of law – I had no intention of sporting a waistcoat again. Paradoxically as I write these words I am wearing a Bulova pocket watch and matching chain which I suspect I bought in a moment of remorse while wintering in Florida (where I was least likely to wear it). Fortuitously however wearing cardigan sweaters as I now regularly do in Canada, the pocket watch is a fitting adornment.

My curiosity of watches began when I graduated from prep school (until which time I cannot recall what if any watch or watches I may have regularly sported). The introduction was through Alyea Jewellers at their first store in a high-rise building on Sparks Street, Ottawa. There I met Robert Hutchings. When I told him I was looking for a watch he unhesitatingly suggested a Rolex (about which I knew nothing other than the name sounded odd to me – reminiscent of Timex which was not a hearty endorsement).  The watch came with an alligator strap. Years later I either bought another Rolex or I replaced the alligator strap with a gold band. I must have kept that watch until I began practicing law in Almonte because I recall that I asked Anthony St. Dennis (a local friend and an engraver with the British America Bank Note Company) to carve my initials on the back of the watch. Eventually I sold that watch to Wilson Basille, a local business entrepreneur.

I replaced the Rolex with a Brietling gold Chronomat and strap. Not long after purchasing the Brietling from Henry Birks & Sons in the Rideau Centre, I discovered that one of the screws into the bezel was protruding. When Birks proposed to repair it, I told them I wanted a new one. When the new one arrived, the screws similarly began protruding.  I returned the watch to Birks and got my money back ($32,000). I was dealing with the head of the jewellery department, a very likeable gentleman who ended joining Bob Hutchings to form Hutchings & Cremin in the By Ward Market (where I ended commissioning many rings and bracelets).  By the way, when Birks returned the 2nd Brietling to the supplier in Toronto, the supplier wrote in defence of the product, “These watches don’t grow on trees!”  Eventually however we heard from the primary supplier in Switzerland that there was a construction error which they were addressing to fix.  This was the first time I heard that it is only Rolex which manufactures all its own parts, while the others import pieces made elsewhere then add them to their own device.

Being thus disappointed with Brietling – and because Birks did not sell Rolex – I shifted to Jubilee Jewellers (also located in the Rideau Centre).  There I bought a Santos 100 by Cartier with an alligator strap. To my astonishment an identical problem arose when a screw began coming out of the large bezel.  I returned the watch (which they initially “repaired” by adding some kind of glue to the screw – which I thought contaminated the device and any subsequent dismantling required).  At last – reluctantly (because it was smaller than the others) – I bought another Rolex with a gold strap. Eventually it was sold at an auction in Toronto where I unloaded all my other gold accessories (except a signet ring and some cufflinks from one of my Great Aunt Tony’s five deceased husbands in California – she was a private nurse to Howard Hughes).

While thrashing about the market for wrist watches I also attended a yachting outlet in Halifax, Nova Scotia where I bought a Chelsea Ship’s Bell.  This – together with a matching barometer I later bought – was attached to a bespoke hardwood bevelled piece and attached to the wall in our fireplace room at 4 Laura Crescent in Almonte. We left them there when we sold the house.

Clients of mine sold me an antique Louis XIV mantel clock.  I also purchased two wall clocks with pendulum for both the front hallway and the kitchen.  Upstairs I had a mantle clock on my desk in my study. Meanwhile in my office I had a grandfather clock in the waiting room and a mantel clock in my inner office.

Having dismissed the legitimacy of Breitling and Cartier – and having assuaged my profligacy by selling the Rolex – I transitioned to Bulova where I ended with three models all of which I retain and with which I am satisfied. It reminds me of the comment I heard from a well-to-do client whom I curiously asked, “What kind of watch are you wearing?”, to which he replied, “A Timex.  I don’t worry when I put my hand into the water over the side of boat when pulling up the fish!”

My mother gave me a Christmas gift of an antique carriage clock.  She ended liking the clock so avidly that I bought her a new solid brass carriage clock from Henry Birks & Sons made in Germany.  I am looking at it as I write.  It still works perfectly. I also inherited her very elegant Sligh grandfather clock now standing in our hallway entrance. Among these adventures I also purchased several TAG Heuer, one of which I particularly recall from a shop on Duval Street, Key West, Florida. I mention this unstoppable frequency as evidence of the charm I derive from time pieces.  Our weekly subscription to Country Life magazine regularly extols the reputed legacy virtue of complicated time pieces.