Well it’s Armistice Day again, 2010, which means that statistically at least half my life’s passed me by already so I thought I’d better give the PC a kick (or is it a boot?) and find out what blogging was all about before it’s too late. I’m already confused by social netmaking, Tweeter and Faceblock so I’m hoping that blogging will be easier.

Time-permitting, I plan to describe some of the unusual clock repair situations I encounter every so often but in a light-hearted way and with a large added dose of poetic license. To protect my ‘victims’, all the names will be made up and arranged in alphabetical order, like the hurricanes of the US. So I’ll start with Angelique, the owner of a German ting tang bracket clock that I’ve just repaired. She rang me on Monday, a few days after collecting her restored clock, to report a strange high-pitched screeching sound moments after it struck  7 o’clock.

That’s bizarre, I thought. There’s nothing in this clock that could cause that so I wondered, with intrigue, what it could be and asked her to bring it back. It transpired that the high-pitch screech came not from the clock, but from her mobile phone! It was probably an alarm she had set for 7am.

There was a different problem with the clock’s strike train, however, which caused it to strike seven at one o’clock so I asked her to leave it with me anyway. As she prepared to leave, her phone began to bark like a lapdog and she jokingly explained that it was only her husband! After she’d gone, I began wondering if perhaps they had a pet bulldog at home and if so what he made of all this.

So who’s in charge of this asylum? I’m beginning to feel quite normal already and I’d like to leave now, please. Not much of an inaugural blog you’re thinking, but heaps better than the usual cringe-worthy “Hello World”. OMG!