My youth wasn't one of sweetness and light, nine of us in a one two up two down with very little money, nothing in the way of presents at Christmas or birthdays which affected me insomuch as as an adult I have never acknowledged let alone celebrated either occasion and regard both as just another day.
A cold distant father who was a man who had a family rather than being a family man who treated us all with studied indifference and what little love we received was from my mother when the mood suited her.
No games of cricket,football or shared experience or encouragement in anything from father I'm sad to say
School was something I endured rather than enjoyed and leaving same aged fifteen was a blessing.
However there were small isolated punctuations to this drab existence such as the simple pleasure of a ticking clock, the full meaning of which is a story for another day, which sadly is not a pleasure my wife shares preferring as she does the silence of quartz technology.
However in my little den I have a nice small pendulum wall clock and spend many a happy hour noodling on my vintage computers with the measured clack clack of the pendulum feather breaking the silence with the equally welcome chorus of bird song in the appropriate season.
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