Time On My Hands
Feb. 13th, 2007 07:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rhythmaningI don’t wear a watch. I carry a watch, and I have done for many years.
I think there are a lot of reasons for this. When I was young – seven or eight – my grandmother gave me a watch. It broke within a week. I was given another one, and I broke that, too; and another. I think after three, my grandparents gave up.
I don’t know how I broke them.
And watches weren’t designed for me. I am left handed; wrist watches are designed to be worn on the left hand. If you wear a watch on the right hand, it is almost impossible to wind up. Then again, a seven year old doesn’t need a watch – at least, not forty years ago. (Now they probably need a phone and a laptop and a tv. Kids today…) I didn’t need to tell the time.
I didn’t need a watch for many years, until, in secondary school, I started taking more serious exams. So I got a watch. I just didn’t wear it; I kept it in my pocket. By now, I was playing drums, and anything around my wrist felt wrong. (It still does; I hate wearing things around my wrists – one reason I usually roll my sleeves up.) I move my hands quite a lot – my hands speak volumes. Instead, I kept my watch in my pocket.
I got very good at knowing what the time was – being able to judge the passing of time. And I got very good at knowing where to find the time – where the public clocks are, reading other people’s watches – even if I had my own watch in my pocket. Throughout university, I kept my watch in my pocket; I developed an innate sense of time.
The strap on the watch in my pocket fell off, leaving just the strapless watch. And I thought, why not get a real pocket watch? I did; I am probably on my third (I lost one on An Teallach; I can’t remember the other). It could be an affectation, though I hope it isn’t – I don’t use a watch chain. I like the weight of it in my pocket (but not on my wrist) – it feels substantial, as if time actually weighs something.
It has meaning.
I think there are a lot of reasons for this. When I was young – seven or eight – my grandmother gave me a watch. It broke within a week. I was given another one, and I broke that, too; and another. I think after three, my grandparents gave up.
I don’t know how I broke them.
And watches weren’t designed for me. I am left handed; wrist watches are designed to be worn on the left hand. If you wear a watch on the right hand, it is almost impossible to wind up. Then again, a seven year old doesn’t need a watch – at least, not forty years ago. (Now they probably need a phone and a laptop and a tv. Kids today…) I didn’t need to tell the time.
I didn’t need a watch for many years, until, in secondary school, I started taking more serious exams. So I got a watch. I just didn’t wear it; I kept it in my pocket. By now, I was playing drums, and anything around my wrist felt wrong. (It still does; I hate wearing things around my wrists – one reason I usually roll my sleeves up.) I move my hands quite a lot – my hands speak volumes. Instead, I kept my watch in my pocket.
I got very good at knowing what the time was – being able to judge the passing of time. And I got very good at knowing where to find the time – where the public clocks are, reading other people’s watches – even if I had my own watch in my pocket. Throughout university, I kept my watch in my pocket; I developed an innate sense of time.
The strap on the watch in my pocket fell off, leaving just the strapless watch. And I thought, why not get a real pocket watch? I did; I am probably on my third (I lost one on An Teallach; I can’t remember the other). It could be an affectation, though I hope it isn’t – I don’t use a watch chain. I like the weight of it in my pocket (but not on my wrist) – it feels substantial, as if time actually weighs something.
It has meaning.