I am your long case clock
I am your long-case clock. Don’t insult me or diminish my stature by calling me a “Grandfather clock”; that flippant term is best reserved for timepieces, driven by electricity, sold from showrooms. Oh no, I’m a long case clock and no mistake.
William Falconer made me in a town called Elgin, in the north of Scotland. Don’t worry if you haven’t heard of Elgin, most people have not. Elgin produces woollens – you will have heard of Johnson’s woollen mills – whisky, with its proximity to the distilleries of the Spey Valley, timber, from the woodlands, and until recently supported two airfields of the Royal Air Force. Most of this came after my time, although there have been stills, legal and illicit, in Elgin from the beginning of time.
William Falconer made me in 1760. Pardon me if I don’t recall the day or the month when I struck for the first time; my creation will have taken William many, many days and probably a month or more in any case. Since Charles Edward Stuart, the Young Pretender to the throne of Great Britain, stayed in Elgin in the days before his defeat at Culloden in 1746, the town will have taken punishment from the Hanoverian Army in its aftermath. A quiet and subdued place, then, in all probability, in 1760.
I am, therefore, two hundred and fifty-four years old or, if you prefer, 2,225,040 hours. I have been very well looked after and cared for; no idle time for me. I have, therefore, ticked 8,010,144,000 times and struck the hour 156 times each and every day,
My strike rack spring moved out of true very recently; Mr Robinette, of Bury St Edmunds, made me a new one in 2007. Over time, my gut lines – hide lines, if you will - have snapped and been replaced, too many times to mention. But everything else is as it was. Wheels turn on gears as ever they did; not for me the dance of electrons on silicon; weights yielding to the unchanging pull of gravity determine the measurement of time for me.
I was just two years old when the Highland Clearances began. The suppression of the Highland way of life had begun immediately after Culloden with the banning of Highland dress; now, the shift of farming from arable, requiring numbers of workers, to livestock, needing fewer, was used as a premise to empty large areas of land, displacing the inhabitants. Many left Scotland for good. The English agenda was fulfilled.
People who had known the time by my face and chimes went from Elgin far and wide, in pursuit of wealth and adventure, many in the service of the country. Scots have always made proud soldiers. I have seen many; not the street-fighting thugs of Glasgow and Edinburgh, but the refined, professional soldier; the Gordons of Aberdeen, the Cameronians of Nairn but more than any, the Seaforth Highlanders from Elgin and Moray. Families and soldiers from Elgin would gaze on my face. Large numbers of Battalions from the regiments served in the wars of the 20th Century. Collectively as the 51st Highland Division, they fought honourably in the withdrawal from France in May 1940. The evacuation from Dunkirk is well known, but less well recognised is the part played by the Highland Division in holding back the German advance so that the evacuation could take place. Those that were not killed were taken prisoner at St-Valery-en-Caux, more than 41,000 in number, and spent the rest of the war in captivity.
When you were just a small child, the sight of me terrified you. I was the repository of monsters, and when you sneaked down the stairs, you would catch sight of me and retreat beneath the bed covers. When sunlight filled the house, you were much braver, daring even to touch with a single finger, but never getting too close.
And what now, that I live far from Elgin, what will become of my country, the nation it strives to become? And what of my adopted country, and its part in the continent of Europe? These matters, and others we cannot yet anticipate, will be resolved and I will still tell the time, as I have for two hundred and fifty-four years, for two hundred more. For I am your long case clock.
William Falconer made me in a town called Elgin, in the north of Scotland. Don’t worry if you haven’t heard of Elgin, most people have not. Elgin produces woollens – you will have heard of Johnson’s woollen mills – whisky, with its proximity to the distilleries of the Spey Valley, timber, from the woodlands, and until recently supported two airfields of the Royal Air Force. Most of this came after my time, although there have been stills, legal and illicit, in Elgin from the beginning of time.
William Falconer made me in 1760. Pardon me if I don’t recall the day or the month when I struck for the first time; my creation will have taken William many, many days and probably a month or more in any case. Since Charles Edward Stuart, the Young Pretender to the throne of Great Britain, stayed in Elgin in the days before his defeat at Culloden in 1746, the town will have taken punishment from the Hanoverian Army in its aftermath. A quiet and subdued place, then, in all probability, in 1760.
I am, therefore, two hundred and fifty-four years old or, if you prefer, 2,225,040 hours. I have been very well looked after and cared for; no idle time for me. I have, therefore, ticked 8,010,144,000 times and struck the hour 156 times each and every day,
My strike rack spring moved out of true very recently; Mr Robinette, of Bury St Edmunds, made me a new one in 2007. Over time, my gut lines – hide lines, if you will - have snapped and been replaced, too many times to mention. But everything else is as it was. Wheels turn on gears as ever they did; not for me the dance of electrons on silicon; weights yielding to the unchanging pull of gravity determine the measurement of time for me.
I was just two years old when the Highland Clearances began. The suppression of the Highland way of life had begun immediately after Culloden with the banning of Highland dress; now, the shift of farming from arable, requiring numbers of workers, to livestock, needing fewer, was used as a premise to empty large areas of land, displacing the inhabitants. Many left Scotland for good. The English agenda was fulfilled.
People who had known the time by my face and chimes went from Elgin far and wide, in pursuit of wealth and adventure, many in the service of the country. Scots have always made proud soldiers. I have seen many; not the street-fighting thugs of Glasgow and Edinburgh, but the refined, professional soldier; the Gordons of Aberdeen, the Cameronians of Nairn but more than any, the Seaforth Highlanders from Elgin and Moray. Families and soldiers from Elgin would gaze on my face. Large numbers of Battalions from the regiments served in the wars of the 20th Century. Collectively as the 51st Highland Division, they fought honourably in the withdrawal from France in May 1940. The evacuation from Dunkirk is well known, but less well recognised is the part played by the Highland Division in holding back the German advance so that the evacuation could take place. Those that were not killed were taken prisoner at St-Valery-en-Caux, more than 41,000 in number, and spent the rest of the war in captivity.
When you were just a small child, the sight of me terrified you. I was the repository of monsters, and when you sneaked down the stairs, you would catch sight of me and retreat beneath the bed covers. When sunlight filled the house, you were much braver, daring even to touch with a single finger, but never getting too close.
And what now, that I live far from Elgin, what will become of my country, the nation it strives to become? And what of my adopted country, and its part in the continent of Europe? These matters, and others we cannot yet anticipate, will be resolved and I will still tell the time, as I have for two hundred and fifty-four years, for two hundred more. For I am your long case clock.
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