This is the story that she told me. It is in her own words:
"See, in your mind's eye, an old single-storied farmhouse on the outskirts of a small hamlet in central France. The overgrown track makes the approach difficult and indicates that it has not been lived in for some considerable time.
Inside, the ceilings are low and the beams are huge; on the floor, throughout, are original terracotta tiles. There are two main rooms. The one on the right, with the big fireplace at the end, was clearly used as the main living space. Dominating the room, on the left, is a sturdy, roll-end, wooden bed. Piles of aged, carefully folded linen cover most of its surface; some sporting the initials of the previous owners created in neat, white embroidery. On the right is a long wooden kitchen table surrounded by fragile chairs with rush-seats. Next to the bed is a cupboard and next to that, just fitting in between the beams is a grandfather clock.
The clock is charming in its rustic simplicity, although many would see it as too rough to take seriously. The case is crudely made from cheap, thin pine and painted a tanish brown colour; very similar to the paint used in England, years ago, as a way of hiding the paucity of similar, poor quality, wood. The original glass in the arched window in front of the face is cracked but still in place. The long window in the body of the clock, vaguely barometer-shaped, stretches downwards to reveal the long pendulum. This, too, has the original glass, barely clinging to the internal securing points. Half way down, the glass is broken and a piece is missing.
The white enamel face offers the only splash of brightness as it stands proud of the cheap, paper-thin, yellow metal surround. Where the surround extends upwards, it forms a crude relief, over the circular face, depicting a farmer ploughing with his oxen. Resting inside the hood, on the right, is the small z-shaped winding implement.
The large pendulum has also seen better days. It is simply made, with a few rods of turned steel, alternating with lengths of plain brass, and ending in a lyre-shaped decoration above the circular, sun-shaped base. Unsurprisingly, this sunny circle has a large dent on the right hand side. Behind the pendulum, and fully wound, wait two very heavy, grey metal weights. When the pendulum is set in motion, the mechanism slides effortlessly into life and starts ticking. It has the slow, reassuring, rhythm of home and hearth; of time passing and seasons turning; of lives that are over and old ways lost.
According to the young woman, it was her grandfather's house and her great grandfather's clock which has stood in this same position for as long as she can remember. It is dusty and full of cobwebs. The clock is for sale because her grandparents have died and the house has been sold."
"See, in your mind's eye, an old single-storied farmhouse on the outskirts of a small hamlet in central France. The overgrown track makes the approach difficult and indicates that it has not been lived in for some considerable time.
Inside, the ceilings are low and the beams are huge; on the floor, throughout, are original terracotta tiles. There are two main rooms. The one on the right, with the big fireplace at the end, was clearly used as the main living space. Dominating the room, on the left, is a sturdy, roll-end, wooden bed. Piles of aged, carefully folded linen cover most of its surface; some sporting the initials of the previous owners created in neat, white embroidery. On the right is a long wooden kitchen table surrounded by fragile chairs with rush-seats. Next to the bed is a cupboard and next to that, just fitting in between the beams is a grandfather clock.
The clock is charming in its rustic simplicity, although many would see it as too rough to take seriously. The case is crudely made from cheap, thin pine and painted a tanish brown colour; very similar to the paint used in England, years ago, as a way of hiding the paucity of similar, poor quality, wood. The original glass in the arched window in front of the face is cracked but still in place. The long window in the body of the clock, vaguely barometer-shaped, stretches downwards to reveal the long pendulum. This, too, has the original glass, barely clinging to the internal securing points. Half way down, the glass is broken and a piece is missing.
The white enamel face offers the only splash of brightness as it stands proud of the cheap, paper-thin, yellow metal surround. Where the surround extends upwards, it forms a crude relief, over the circular face, depicting a farmer ploughing with his oxen. Resting inside the hood, on the right, is the small z-shaped winding implement.
The large pendulum has also seen better days. It is simply made, with a few rods of turned steel, alternating with lengths of plain brass, and ending in a lyre-shaped decoration above the circular, sun-shaped base. Unsurprisingly, this sunny circle has a large dent on the right hand side. Behind the pendulum, and fully wound, wait two very heavy, grey metal weights. When the pendulum is set in motion, the mechanism slides effortlessly into life and starts ticking. It has the slow, reassuring, rhythm of home and hearth; of time passing and seasons turning; of lives that are over and old ways lost.
According to the young woman, it was her grandfather's house and her great grandfather's clock which has stood in this same position for as long as she can remember. It is dusty and full of cobwebs. The clock is for sale because her grandparents have died and the house has been sold."
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