I was flâneuring in the market one day, when my magpie eye was seized by a gold plated half-hunter watch, almost the spit of the one I inherited from my grandfather, though a little stouter and in good working order. It had been presented to a J. Slann in appreciation of many years of faithful service by E. Walters & Co. in May 1946, as the inscription inside the back of the case testified. After some thought I agreed to pay £100 for it to keep my heirloom company.

I enjoyed tinkering with the regulator to get the watch as accurate as I could and soon had it keeping the time to within a minute. My friend Sean, the harassed watch expert assured me it was a good piece.

And then I had to go to Yorkshire and my brother, Phil, who was helping me pack said I didn’t need to take the watch but I ignored his advice and dropped it into my breast pocket as I left. While in the wilds I noticed that the second hand had come adrift and Time stopped still. It was then that I rediscovered Sarah, but that’s another story.

Twice I waited for Sean at Piccadilly Station but he never showed so I found Ian in the market who sent it to his repair man and fifty pounds later it was fixed. But the hands bound, so I went back to Ian and he said it was an easy job which he could take care of himself. But then he never showed up at the market for week after week and then I heard that he was ill and suddenly died just before Christmas. The last thing his poor widow would want to worry about I thought was my watch.

But within a couple of weeks a friend of his wife, Jocelyn, called me as I had left my card with the watch and shortly thereafter it arrived recorded delivery, fixed and free of charge. I had a lovely chat with Jocelyn but the watch needed coaxing into telling the right time so I made it the central focus of my workbench and now she’s right on the money, give or take.