Thursday, 13 March 2014

I Launder My Watch

I have found my watch.  It fell on the floor as I pulled my duvet cover out of the washing machine.  I hung up the cover and put the watch on a radiator.

I'd looked for  my watch earlier when getting dressed. I searched on my chest of drawers and on my desk, then had to catch the train for work. Whilst delivering a lecture, I glanced at my wrist twice, then had to ask my students the time.  After I'd  looked for the third time, one of them took off his watch and handed it to me.  It felt solid,  like it would withstand the pressure of a dive to a depth of 30 metres, and a spin in a twin tub.

There are many things I wash that I don't mean to: swimming goggles, coins, elastic bands, shopping lists, tissues. Whites with blues.

The watch reminds me of my father because, though he didn't choose it, I bought it with money that he gave me. 

I can't recommend putting a watch into a washing machine, but mine looks cleaner than it has for a while, and, after an initial stutter, it's caught up with itself.

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