I’m taking a break from horology in this month’s blog. Variety is the spice of life!

When I began writing this site I had no idea what ‘search engine optimisation’ (SEO) was. I’d never even heard of it but for the poorly-informed it’s the technique for getting your website in front of as many potentially interested people as possible.

No one helped me when the site was in its infancy. I had to sift through the techniques I found and believe me there’s a whole industry out there ready to take your cash for doing very little. Some want your money for doing nothing at all and make rediculous promises that cannot possibly be achieved since Google began introducing ever-complex algorithms to ensure that sites cannot buy their way up the ranking (unless they pay Google direct of course in terms of advertising and pay-by-click services). On that note a chap phoned me last month from Manchester asking for £230 to renew my annual “Google subscription”. My what? I asked, disbelievingly. He explained to me that if I wanted to remain prominent on the Google search engine, I had to pay the subscription and that if I didn’t renew I would drop off the rankings. What rubbish! I just wonder how many people running a business fall for this scam.

There are many methods of improving a website’s rankings but they all take time to work. Horologica.co.uk now gets around 2,250 new visitors a month and nearly 6,000 page hits. People from the UK make up the lion’s share, which is how I planned the strategy but there are still hundreds of overseas visitors every week from the US, Canada, Australia, India, and all over Europe of course. I’ve even had visitors from New Zealand, Brazil, Vietnam, China, South Africa, Kenya, Argentina, Guatemala, Bolivia, the UAE, Malaysia, Pakistan, Russia, Belarus, Philippines, Thailand, Indonesia and Japan. It’s not because of secret hidden coding that these visitors found the website out of the many trillions in existence the world over, nor because I’ve paid someone to promote it – in fact, I’ve never paid anyone a penny, ever; it’s way too much fun doing it yourself! No, it’s because the site is genuine, interesting and liked by the people reading it. It meets their needs and expectations.

SEO comprises a great many tools, far more than I’ve discovered and more than I can begin to understand. But once you’ve got to the first page of Google,  it becomes an obsession to try and get to the number one position there. Now, I’ve never been into social networks like Facebook and Twitter at all really (I can’t see why you would want to tell the world all about your day, or why anyone would be interested anyway). But social networking has become a big marketing tool and it’s free so I’ve just  added a Facebook LIKE button to the pages of my site to see what impact it has, if any. There’s one below – if you’re on Facebook yourself, please click on it!

Don’t forget, the clocks go back on 28th October (it’s only in the UK though,  so don’t worry if you happen to be reading this in Seoul!).

Followers of this blog will have noticed the long absence of any material in recent months. Well, life’s dealt a few bitter blows this year in what has become my annus horribilus, taking my mind off the blogging and indeed clocks generally.

My father’s pendulum stopped swinging in February. He’d been taken ill in early January and was rushed to A&E with stomach pains. As it turned out, it wasn’t that serious an ailment but as a centenerian, he had become a little frail and the upheaval was distressing for him. It was completely alien to him as he was fit enough to mow the lawn every week, paint a neighbour’s fence and even climb over the side wall (which is taller than him) when he locked himself out. He had looked after the house unaided for seven years but after about ten days in Colchester hospital, he was discharged because they needed the bed. He was too unwell to return home to fend for himself so I found him a care home for two weeks expecting him to recover his strength. Sadly, he never improved much at all, refusing food almost every day. Five weeks after his arrival there, he suffered a heart attack and died two days later in hospital so this blog is dedicated to him.

The usual matters of the funeral, execution of the Will, and Probate followed and during this time my own health came under closer scrutiny. I had not been right for months but it was now much worse and despites all manner of scans and blood tests, the different consultants could not reach a diagnosis. It eventually turned out to be an autoimmune disease, and has been brought under control with a cocktail of medication.

Then in May my cousin died unexpectedly, alone at home in his bed. He was just 58, though he had already retired. We had drifted apart since childhood as we made our different ways in life and often joked in recent years that we saw more of each other at funerals these days. But it still came as a shock at what was already a difficult time for me.

Hence, I have spent very little time repairing clocks these past few months and apologise to those whom I have kept waiting as a consequence and to those whom I have refused altogether or put in what must seem like a never-ending queue. I’ve just taken some time off in the sun to recuperate and am now back to deal with the next problem, whatever it might be.

So life’s been like that assorted boxed selection of chocolates just lately; I just don’t know what to expect next*

By the way, has anyone noticed that these blog titles are in alphabetical order?

Monthly blogs will resume next month.

* EDIT – And so it goes on – a lovely local friend lost her short battle with cancer in the early hours of this morning. Julie was just 50 years old. RIP 18/07/2012

Firstly, apologies for no blogs in September and October; a very dear friend was gravely ill and my spare time was very limited so very little clock repairing was possible. She passed away a few weeks ago, age 63, after losing a ten year cancer battle.

This month brought my first ever disgruntled clock owner. I thought my website made it very clear that clock repairing is just a hobby, something I do in my spare time, and that if a fast repair is needed it’s best to look elsewhere. In return, I charge almost nothing to save moribund clocks from the graveyard because I enjoy breathing new life into them and seeing the faces of the owners when the get them back afterwards, working properly again. I almost never take anything by way of a deposit, funding all the costs of a repair myself.  Maybe I’m just ‘old school’ but I do helping people without trying to take advantage all the time.

So this grandaughter clock came to me for a repair in February – a three train 1920′s German factory movement; the sort of thing it’s difficult to get too excited about. It had sat somewhere not working for over five years until someone finally decided to get it fixed and as I was cheaper than anyone else they could find, it came to me.

Well it was full of cobwebs, dried up oil and dirt and I have quite a few other clocks to finish first so it sat in the corner for weeks undergoing tests while still in the case to see what adjustments would be required. Eventually I took the movement out and cleaned it and then tested it. After that I updated the owner who suggested I hold onto it for a while longer to make sure it runs to time.

By October I was confident that it would be reliable but it was another month before the owner finally collected it. In an email just before coming he said my charges represented good value but he wanted a discount because it had ‘taken an extraordinary amount of time for the clock to be fixed’.  Well, I don’t do discounts because there’s no profit in this for me to discount. Every penny is spent of cleaning fluids, maintaining the website, replacing and repairing tools, maintaining the lathes and other equipment, and so on. And I don’t do haggling either because my rates are way below anyone else and I don’t need the hassle of dealing with people who are always looking for something for next to nothing.

Given that the clock had sat uncared for for five years or more, hadn’t been serviced for even longer and even sat here for a month waiting to be collected after it was ready, and that the owner knew at the outset that horology is just a spare time hobby, this appeal for a discount all sounded a little disingenuous so I simply suggested he accept it as a gift.

He did. Not even an attempt to make some contribution to my costs when he eventually collected it. No mention of it at all.  Evidently, not everyone went to my ‘old school’.

I’d been trying to arrange a visit to the Palace of Westminster for four years; applications must be made through your local MP but mine had never replied. This year I tried again and finally got to see inside the clock tower on my birthday. It’s well worth a visit, whether you’re interested in clocks or just London’s colourful history.

There’s a lot of detail and data on my Big Ben page (see the photo link on my Home page) and you can get more from the official Parliament website. But what I want to do here is to explain what you can expect. The tour begins in Portcullis House opposite the tower (nearest tube: Westminster). After the issue of a photo ID card, a bag scan and body search you’ll wait in the foyer surrounded by a good many Police wearing side arms and carrying fully automatic weapons.

The guide then arrives and explains that there are 334 concrete steps to the top and asks about any high blood pressure, pregnancies, surgical operations and other conditions that could restrict you, before crossing under the road to the Tower. The climb then begins and it’s not for the feint-hearted but with a couple of pauses along the way, it’s not too bad and on the way you’ll hear the bells chime the half hour.

At the first resting point, the guide will give a background history for about ten minutes in the unofficial Prison Room used to detain naughty MPs. If you wish, you can leave excess baggage here before continuing upwards until you reach the clock movement where you’ll hear tales of pennies, tragedies, and tireless clock-keepers who still wind the going train by hand three times a week. You’ll also get a glimpse of the dials outside through small windows and watch/hear the clock chime the third quarter. The loud clicking sound afterwards is the fly (air brake) on the chime train slowing down on its ratchet. A ratchet was fitted after it broke and sent the tonne weight to the ground in record time, while causing the wheels to fly across the room in what, at the time, was thought to be an explosion that warranted to attendence of the Bomb Squad.

Further up and you’ll eventually find yourself in the open bell tower where you’ll use ear plugs to control the deafening sound of the five bells as the four quarters sound and the hours are counted on Big Ben itself.  Note that this is BB2 as the first bell never made it to the top because it cracked after testing and was destroyed to make the new lighter bell (which also cracked under test but was repaired). On a good day, the views across London are fantastic; on a bad day, it’s wet and windy so take a jacket.

Then it’s back down to the previous level to walk round (and touch) the insides of the four glass dials when you’ll hear the first quarter chime again before returning to the Prison Room to hear more about the naming of the bell and other historic anecdotes. Finally, you’ll descend to ground level again, the whole tour taking around an hour and a half.

There’s no lift, and there’s no cafe or other place for refreshment in Portcullis House so have something to eat and drink before you arrive. And remember that photography is no longer permitted anywhere during the tour.

To arrange a tour contact your MP via http://www.parliament.uk/visiting/visiting-and-tours/bigben/

With apologies for a somewhat late July blog.

This month left me faced with a double-dilemma.

A chap sent me a brass carriage clock with a common enough French movement fitted. The case top was dented, the front and side glasses chipped and a screw had been fitted to the back door to replace the usual turned brass knob that had long since disappeared.

If that wasn’t enough, there was the usual problem – it didn’t work either. Only this time the clock was accompanied by a request is to fit a new quartz movement.

Well, I took a look at the existing movement and the all-important lever escapement looked like it could be persuaded to run so here’s my first dilemma; do I offer to dismantle, service and clean the antique inheritance, or do I simply remove a perfectly restorable antique movement and fit a new battery quartz movement instead?

I trembled at the thought of chucking in a nice plastic box and battery so I asked the owner if he would consider a repair instead. His wife, who inherited the clock from her father apparently liked the sound of getting the original one ticking again, he replied. So that was me out of an horological hole – I am now to restore it and my horological soul remains intact.

But it doesn’t. Soon afterwards the client emailed again to say that he didn’t really want it restored so could I just say it can’t be done and fit the quartz movement anyway. Dilemma number two. Can I come between a man and his wife and join in a conspiracy with one to help deceive the other?

I’d managed to sidestep the risk of selling my soul only to find myself in the worse position of selling my concience instead.

Faust had it easy.

Sorry about last month’s omission, followers. I took a breather in May and went on holiday. But I’m back for June.

Now, when I clean a clock movement, I tend to do it the old-fashioned way using a warm, mild ammonia solution. To speed thing up a bit I use ultrasonic tanks which create tiny bubbles that burst when they come into contact with the parts through a process known as cavitation. This action shakes all the dirt loose.

The tanks cost £550 for the smaller one and £1,600 for the big one so I was really surprised to find on a certain online auction site a product that claims to do the same for £15. Just place the special sheet of metal in the bottom of a sink, pour two heaped tablespoons of ordinary washing soda onto it, add very hot water to it to dissolve the soda and then place the tarnished items on top so that they make contact with the metal sheet. Then, hey presto! Fifteen seconds later, remove the item and rinse in soapy water and dry. All the dirt from your clock has magically transferred to the metal plate so just rinse that next with some sudsy water under the hot tap and put it away for next time.

If this works, it’s gonna make ultrasonic tanks look positively slow and sales of Horolene will plummet.

Well, it seems it might actually work! But a bit of Googling reveals that the process is supposed to be for silver items, not brass clock parts. The oxidisation of silver (the tarnish) is black sulphide and all you need is some clean aluminium foil and bicarbonate of soda (common baking powder). If you did chemistry at school, you’ll probably this equation:

2Al(s) + 3Ag₂S(s) + 6H₂O -> 6Ag(s) + 2Al₂(OH)₃(s) + 3H₂S(aq)

If you don’t remember it, try this: Pour some warm water into a container [6H₂O], add a couple of spoonfuls of the baking powder [3Ag₂S(s)] and finally in goes the foil [2Al(s)] . Place the silver items into the solution in contact with the foil and then remove after ten or fifteen seconds and rinse it off. Job done!

Now I haven’t tried this yet as all out cutlery is dishwasher-safe stainless steel. But if yours is silver, try it and tell me what you think. But if the spoons dissolve or disintegrate, don’t blame me; blame Wikipedia.

See you in July.

In April a chap, say Ferdinand, brought in a 30 hour longcase clock movement because the chain kept slipping round the sprockets on the two main wheels – a common enough problem caused by wear.

The trouble is that most of these weight-driven clocks started life with a rope to drive the wheels, but the ropes fray quite quickly as the spikes on the sprockets grip and release them. So most ropes needed replacing frequently. They also cause a lot of unwanted dust fibres in the movement, which sticks to the oil and dries out the pivot holes. So most owners have opted to replace the worn out rope with longer-lasting metal chain and this was no exception.

The particular problem was that the sprockets were original; there were just five spikes on each and they were worn and not designed for chain so they were too short and only two spikes were in contact with the chain at any one time. It needed new sprockets designed for a chain, plus a new chain, which I supplied and fitted using the existing cheeks to retain as much originality as possible.

Then while the movement was in pieces I agreed to clean the pivots and pivot holes and re-oil them. The owner collected the movement but when he got it home, he  re-fitted the dial and hands and put it back into the trunk himself. Next day he rang to say that the clock would not go and the strike would not stop.

The only way to sort this was to see the movement in action in situ, which I offered to do free of charge. I found that the pin on the strike wheel was now bent flat and it soon became obvious that it was suffering from metal fatigue and needed to be replaced. So I agreed to replace it free of charge, on site. This is not a small job as it entails stripping the movement again and I learnt from this not to reassemble a job on the bench without checking all the parts (even if I was not being paid to check them). Had I done so, I would have spotted the damage and fitted a new pin before assembly and collection. That was the strike problem sorted.

As I refitted the dial, I replaced the nails and split pins with proper steel taper pins, and I also added a new domed washer to the rather loose minute hand. Then, once the movement was installed, I could hear that it was out of beat. Some clocks will run like that and as this one was screwed to the wall, I guess it must have for many years. But there is a very great risk of it stopping, as indeed this one had evidently done. So I adjusted the crutch manually and set it in beat for this particular clock case, which of course I had not seen before. Again, no charge.

When I left the clock was running well again and it still is. The owner is delighted but I’ve learnt also not to expect an owner to be able to set up a longcase clock himself so henceforth I insist on attrending to the set up personally. It’s quicker and cheaper for me in the long run.

Another lesson learned.

I had a call this week from a local clock repairer. Sticking with my sequential use of the alphabet, let’s call him ’Eustace’. Eustace explained that he had  spent the day cleaning a friend’s clock. Having got it going again, he’d put the movement back into its wooden case but he had a problem – he was clean out of clock oil. Did I have any spare oil to help him out?

Now oil’s not expensive, but it’s not cheap either, not the quality stuff I use anyway. And it’s widely available online at a number of suppliers who’ll deliver next day. So I reminded him, as any repairer would already know, that there were many types of oil, and different viscosities were needed for different parts of a clock and different clock types, but he insisted he needed some today and that any type would do.

This is all very odd, I thought. The amount of oil needed for a clock was so tiny that you don’t just suddenly run out of oil and you don’t just have one bottle anyway.  I suspected that he had never bought or used clock oil before, which meant that he could not be a serious repairer at all, so I quizzed him some more. “What do you use to apply the oil and where do you apply it?”, I asked. He used a matchstick and added oil to all the moving parts! “Not the wheels and pinions? I challenged. “What do you mean by ‘pinions’?” came the unexpected response. “Is it a timepiece?” I asked, “or a two or three train movement? And how are you going to oil the front pivots now that you’ve already screwed the movement back in the case?”.

“I don’t understand what you mean.” By now, I had detected a Scottish accent so perhaps he just didn’t want to pay for his oil. But he was persistent so I offered to assist and a couple of hours later, he appeared at the door. “What did you use to clean the movement? I enquired, tempting him with a small phial of oil in my hand. “WD40″ came the instant reply, as though all clock repairers use it.

Argh! WD40 is wholly unsuitable for clocks and the image of Eustace spraying it all over the fully assembled movement sent a shudder down my spine. “WD40 contains all manner of chemicals that clocks don’t like” I explained. No repairer would even be seen with a can in his workshop, let alone use it on a clock. On the contrary, I have spent many an hour trying to remove all trace of WD40 (including that distinctive smell) from a movement.

Heaven only knows what the impact is of mixing clock oil with WD40 but this clock is moribund already so what the heck! I  handed Eustace the £10 phial free of charge and told him that he had no idea about clock repairing. Still, he left happy and smiling.

This was my first face-to-face contact with uncle Bodger, the ubiquitous “friend who knows all about clocks” to whom people entrust their treasured heirlooms, just to save a few pounds.

Useless Eustace!