My Grandmother owned a nice mantle clock. It sat on top of her upright piano, and Grandmother kept it wound. It ticked away, and bonged the quarter, half, and three-quarter hours, as well as the hours themselves. I well remember staying at Grandma’s house when Mom and Dad went on vacation, and though I was often unable to sleep in an unfamiliar place, I was still able to tell the time by the clock’s bonging of the hours.
Grandmother died, and the clock passed into possession of my aunt (my mother’s sister). Auntie kept the clock going, but reported that one day, it just didn’t work. Still, it sat upon the piano, hands frozen at 3:15.
A couple of years ago, Auntie passed away, and I found that she left the clock to me in her will. It recently arrived; and I put it on my own piano; and to my delight, when it arrived, it was ticking again. Apparently, it just needed a little bit of a jolt to get it working again, which it got in moving, and now it is happily ticking away and bonging the hours from the top of my piano. I have the winding key, and plan to keep it going. It is a treat to see and hear it again.
This is indeed mundane and pointless, but I had to share. It is a beautiful clock, and I am enjoying it.