November 26 2019

The ticking of a clock: on timing.

Monday night soundscape.

Thunder. Rain falling. Ticking, ticking clocks.

I love the sound of a clock ticking. The mechanisms of an analogue clock fascinate me, as does the way they each have their own distinct sound.

The black one was a Kmart buy years ago, and used to live in a reading nook in the corner of my library. The hands stopped moving the day I packed it up to bring it home, along with so many of my personal pieces that were no longer required in the space I loved, but it still gives out a low gentle beat occasionally, marking a time that hasn’t moved on in over three years.

The green one I found in a little shop one day, and I’m not gonna lie, I kind of built my entire bedroom colour scheme around it. It marks each second, reliably keeping time with a deep regular thud.

And the silver and cream beauty was sitting in a box of freebies on the front fence of a home I pass by every day on my way to work. It’s a frantic little thing, 3 ticks a second, trying to fit as much into a minute as it can.

Time. It’s a funny thing, huh? Staying with us long after it’s gone, and yet wasted as we rush through it, trying so desperately to fit so much in. #clockwork #time #tickingclocks

I posted this on Instagram and Facebook last night. It had been a weird sort of day, after a long, wonderful, emotional and exhausting weekend. About half an hour later, I got a phone call from my partner and best friend, who had decided he just needed to read me some poetry by Neil before I went to sleep. Timing, huh? I couldn’t talk to him – didn’t even really know what to say about how I was feeling. But he just knew. He knew not to ask me too many questions, and he knew just what I needed. Sometimes it’s just all about the timing. And he’s got the best.

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Posted November 26, 2019 by Tamara Reads in category General musings

About the Author

She/her. On Whadjuk Noongar land. NSWPRC Officer, Teacher Librarian, English teacher and social media advocate. I've been teaching in Western Sydney for my entire teaching career, and love my job more than I love Neil Gaiman. (That's a lot, in case you're wondering!) I stalk authors (but always politely), fangirl over books, and drink coffee. And one of my guilty prides about my children is that they all have favourite authors. All opinions are my own.

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