The Clock Tower

Garbed in a skirt of lights the countdown begins toward a new era a New Year from 1895 to future. The clock tower ticks and tocks silently in its quaint charm signifying itself amidst the swirling of traffic and the locals gathering for their daily shop on the Broadway.

My appreciative studio window built opposite this monument as I wait for my next client. I take time to breath and my grateful eyes gaze upon the friendly chunkiness of the clock tower awaiting for the belfry clock to strike. I stare in amazement at the red brick and rustic terracotta and imagine the hands and the heart of the man who designed this clock tower. The fine detailing and corbels, the four faces of the clock with corner turrets surmounted by a weathervane.

The rain begins to pour down and the traffic island is awash with the locals hurrying to take cover. Will my client be late or even show up? My breathing calms and I stare out at the clock tower a glistening ornament, sixty three feet tall like a distinguished figure.

Since moving into my studio here in North London Crouch End I knew it was an important and significant find when I entered the top floor and opened the door. As I opened the door the clock tower welcomed me in when the belfry struck its chord and I knew I had arrived to my place of work my vocation my art of stretching was born.

The clock tower signified the hands of healing, each hourly chime represented a client who walked through my door, and time was spent reducing fatigue and pain, hands on skill adjusting and fixing. I tailored a stretch and strength to each client my inner strength like the tick tock of my breathing in through the nose out through the mouth.

The last week of December before another year approaches and clients are booking in appreciation of how they are feeling their voices resonate with words I feel calmer, relaxed, flexible stronger, and taller. Each testimonial gives me a degree of confidence.

The clock tower strikes 6pm my last client leaves and I wipe my bench with sanitizer and all my tools. Folding up my bench and put it away neatly stacked against the wall. I gaze toward the clock tower and it’s as if it smiles back at me I clock out and close the blinds.

Into the early evening darkness I step outside. Traffic is ongoing and I cross the road and take a look up toward the clock tower. A fluttering billowing bright yellow figure dangling flying hovering at the top of the tower. Someone’s idea of art of confronting time to make it stand still maybe? I hear voices around me “That looks scary, what is it supposed to be”? Supposed to be Christmas not Halloween look like a skeleton, not Santa!” Why do someone have to spoil our clock tower”

As I make my way to the bus stop I realise the effect the clock tower has on its locals, it represents a time and piece of history, it will be there long after I am gone. Time is all we have and the hands of time are what makes us move and project our energy toward the unknown.Tomorrow is the future and like the clock tower we are the architects of our lives. We live and breathe through history and with every sinew we build to protect the things we love. When we reach a new dawn and 2022 rears it’s head that is the new beginning of time.