Not sure if this is a ‘caveat emptor’ story or what. Give a
listen. Many months ago – let’s say six – Orvy and I were browsing antique
stores in a little town an hour from here, which shall remain nameless, but
starts with the letter Belton. We were actually picking up some furniture we’d
bought for the new house, and I found an old English-made mantel clock with
face and wood in good condition, a key, and the tag said “works”. Price was a
bit steep, but I wound it, it chimed (Westminster chimes) – it seemed –
appropriately. So I bought it and brought it home. Seems it wouldn't run for
long unless tilted at about a 15 degree angle. We had reason to return to
Belton the following week, and I complained to the proprietor. I really loved
the clock and didn't really want to return it, but I also expected it to work,
as advertised. She said there was a clock repairman a couple blocks away, and
if I would take the clock there and have him phone her with the repairs, she’d
consider covering the cost. So I did. I carried it there because the car was
attached to a trailer being loaded with all our purchases.
Said clock shop is like something out of collaboration
between China Mielville and Charles Dickens. One little old man runs the shop,
and it’s a wonder he can find his way home, much less what he’s supposed to be
working on. However, he seemed confident that the problem described was easily
fixed. So I left it with his guarantee that he would call the antique store
owner with the estimated cost of repairs. I reported this to the antique store
owner, too, and left my name and number with her.
Weeks went by and frankly, I forgot about it. When I
remembered and phoned, the antique store owner said she’d been in hospital but
maybe her husband knew something. She’d phone back. Nothing. So I called the
little old clock repairman. He said he’d call me back. Nothing. Then I phoned
him. Yes, he’d found my clock (it had a sticky note on it) but it hadn't been
fixed. He’d get back to me. He didn’t. I phoned again. He was sorry but his
wife had been in hospital. Meanwhile, the antique store owner seemed to wash
her hands of the whole mess, and I resolved never to shop in her store again.
Perhaps she won’t miss the considerable business we threw her way buying
furnishings for our new house.
School started; house construction started, I may have made
a couple more useless calls and received many apologies, but no repairs. I
announced to Orvy that if I were in Belton any time soon, I was just liberating
the clock, fixed or not, because we’d paid a good deal for it. He agreed. But
we never really go to Belton, except for antiquing and gun shows.
So, Orvy found himself at a gun show a few weeks back, and
on the way home, stopped by ye little old clock shop to find that the clock
repairman was just as kindly and disorganized as ever, but the clock wasn't fixed. He worked on the clock as Orvy waited for some time, but Orvy was
supposed to meet me at an auction in Waco, and he finally had to leave. After
another phone call or two (I completely abandoning talking to anyone about this
clock and leaving it up to Orvy), Orvy found himself in Belton this past week
(29 December, to be exact) and he picked up our clock. The little old man had
managed to scrounge a key that fit well enough to wind it and said some things
about ‘sorting themselves out’ and ‘if the hour chime’s wrong, that’s really
difficult to fix’. He wouldn’t take any money for his work, but Orvy being who
he is, left some anyway.
He brought the clock home, carefully wound it, and I’ll tell
you what we have: a lovely oak English-made mantel clock with Westminster
chimes with a German key. At 1 PM, it rang 13 times (which would be great if it
were keeping nautical time, but it’s not). At 3 PM, it rang once. The
Westminster chimes seem to be operating perfectly, even if the clock is running
very slowly (now about 20 minutes behind). Of course, fixing the speed is easy
enough with a pendulum adjustment. Perhaps the hour chimes will sort themselves
out, too. I hope it’s worth the time and money; at the very least we have a
conversation piece. Perhaps I’ll go to Antiques Road Show some day and find out
it’s worth a fortune?
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