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Time Free
Lindsay Craik

 

....“Boing, boing. Boing, boing…. Boing, boing. Boing, boing… Boing, boing. Boing, boing. … Boing, boing. Boing, boing. … Boing. …. Boing. …. Boing….,” I chimed.

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…” I continued.

Only three o’clock and I’m already sagging. I don’t think that I’ll be able to last to the evening. I suppose that nice Colin, or that Kenny: he is a dish, will be in for his tea and notice. Oh, I do hope so. I don’t like running to a stop. I get so wound up when my pendulum halts and the beat goes out of my life. Well, at least I am not one of these new smarty plastic digital jobs: all flashing and no voice.

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…”

I do so hope that that tarty little Heather with the shiny studs all over her face, doesn’t come in soon. Her and her spoiled-rotten fourth year “Whatever’s.” And the wee squeaky affected voice! Wherever did she get that! Well, it wasn’t from her parents! They are so broad spoken that they couldn’t get a beer in a bar in Broughton Street without a lot of queer looks. Well so they say! I don’t get out much: it goes with the job. The last time that I was out of a house was when Colin’s dad, my first owner, died.

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…”

I was sitting on his sheltered housing mantle-piece going tick-bloody-tock and watching the football with him when he got up and went through the house. He came back with a cream bun and a mug of tea. It’s alright for some, I thought: nothing for me, as usual. Tick-bloody-tock. The game went on. And, then I noticed it. Nothing! Nothing was happening. The tea was cold and the bun half eaten. I knew that his pendulum had stopped and the ticking of his heart was no more. But, what could I do: nothing. They came in the morning, found him and within a week I was whisked off to Colin’s house, with not even a by your leave. He winds me up regularly saying, “I remember you dad!”

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…”

That Heather is worth the watching though. She comes in all hoity-toity and before I can go boing-boing she has me on silent and is polluting the room with Dance music. I ask you, Dance music! What is wrong with the Pet Shop Boys or wee Geordie Michael? Although some say he is a big boy. He gets me boing-boinging anyway.

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…”

Then cool as she likes, she pretends to study as she rummages round the web from site to site looking for ring-tones of WAP naffness and trivia. She is heading out of school this year, I can tell you. I’ll be glad to see her out of here and I can go boinging any time I like.

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…”

Thank god, here’s her brother. He will sort her out. And he does. I hear the tantrum-throwing Heather running to her room through slamming doors as the music goes off and serious sixth year Kenny takes his seat at the Dell. Better still, he turns me on: off silent. And him such a skinny wee thing! He likes me to keep his chunking together and watches me when I am boing-boinging away. It makes my day.

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…”

I suppose that this is really the best time of the day: the peace before they have their tea and the soap opera antics start. Oh, the shamefulness. That Heather is the worst. The cheek that she gives her mum and dad is nobody’s business. She wants this. She wants that. And her mum is all over her. Yes dear! Later, dear! She’ll get more than a dear if I could join in, the selfish little bitch.

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…”

I see Colin put up with so much from the girls; Heather and her mum and all their peripheral scheming, while he tries to keep the home afloat on his own. Kenny helps him though from time to time with the odd hand grenade, when the chattering pair get too much. Then the pendulum swings momentarily to Colin and we get a bit of peace and reason for a while. I am left to my relentless delivery as I unwind in the evening. Thing are getting slower but I keep the hands moving as I continue to show face.

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…”

I am toiling as night comes in and the sound of the television pervades from the lounge. I hear, Big Brother with a few cheeky chappies, trotting their talentless stuff to the captured audience, and the moronic Truman Show followers. This is no way for a clock of my lineage to be treated. Then I can’t believe my luck, Colin comes though the door and stands in front of me then opens my glass face cover. Oh boy, this is going to be heaven.

“Tick, tock. Tick,tock.…”

Colin flips out his key and before I can coil my spring he gives all three of my mechanisms a good workout. I am now nice and tight as he swings my pendulum to its maximum and sets me back to full fitness and ready for the next few days. He says, “I remember you dad!”

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…”

“Boing, boing. Boing, boing.…


Colin flips out his key and before I can coil my spring he gives all three of my mechanisms a good workout. I am now nice and tight as he swings my pendulum to its maximum and sets me back to full fitness and ready for the next few days. He says, “I remember you dad!”

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…”

“Boing, boing. Boing, boing.…

 

 

 

 

 

 

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