A grey city day

About changes and old things that get a new purpose.

It was cool, but not yet really winter. The last leaves still lay on the streets, dark and wet, refusing to let themselves go with the wind. We had a few things to do, so we took advantage of this Monday shortly before Christmas and set off. The sky stretched above us in a dreary grey, the colour of wet newspaper on which no words could stick, as vast and heavy as the reddish-brown travel bag pulling at my arm. The damp air dampened the mood, but at least it wasn’t drizzling.

Photo by Georg Eiermann on Unsplash

However gloomy the weather was, my cheerful mood carried us forward — that funny text message about some AI going bananas still on my mind, past windows with little figures and fairy lights, ladies deep in conversation with prams and passers-by with full shopping baskets, a young lady with a rucksack from which two rolls of dark green wrapping paper printed with red and white motifs protruded, crossing the street — on to the S-Bahn. Two checkout number boards at the supermarket were glowing red, unoccupied, awaiting the pre-holiday rush.

Once we had left behind the stale air of the lift cabin, which made it impossible to tell which brand of beer had caused the deterioration in the air quality near the floor, our train arrived, so we quickly got on board, ‘dewww-deee-dewwwt’, and off we went. A full-time train ticket not only saves you money, but sometimes also waiting time, because the train would certainly have left before my cold fingers could reach the ticket validator slot.

Three changes, short stages — past conspicuously stale-smelling fruit pallets in front of dimly lit, reddish-brown tiled walls, later past shops selling croissants in front of brightly lit zoo scenes in friendly beige-grey, one flight of stairs higher, the familiar sight of studded pillars before my eyes — which used to be my daily commute to university for many years. Orange LED lettering announced: Theodor-Heuss-Platz, in two minutes. The trains varied as the city itself: the U9 was so loud that even with the windows closed, you had to rely on your eyes, as announcements could only be guessed at. The U2, on the other hand, was ultra-modern: a screen measuring an estimated twenty inches diagonally showed photos of the surrounding area, and the announcements easily penetrated the whirring of the electric motors and landed crystal-clear directly in your ears.

Arrival at the destination station: Messe Nord. The calm wind kept us reasonably warm. Passing the ICC, which, like a stranded, bare white-tiled fossilised ‘spaceship’, gave us a bit of north-south orientation, which the veiled sun denied us.

Photo by Christian Ladewig on Unsplash

I had a self-drawn map with me — my best trick, as it often stays in my head. Cheat sheets you memorize and then leave at home or in the locker are the best! However, the route proved to be awkward, as I had neglected to check OpenStreetMap and had only consulted the public transport map — the distinctive Munich car dealership, which would have been a helpful landmark, was not marked on it. We should have turned left here, where our walk began. Well…

Passing parked cars, we finally reached our destination: a clock repair shop. We were already expected and carefully unpacked our items. What emerged was a mechanical table clock, the inside of which I had cautiously wrapped in newspaper, and which — fully wound — had been standing still for years. The piece was certainly not a rarity, but it had been meticulously adapted to the interior and had thus become a cherished one-of-a-kind item. The gong attached to it, consisting of three loosely suspended clappers and brass rods, controlled by a second, long-avoided winding mechanism, would certainly have caused annoyed passengers to shake their heads if I had not blocked it with some crumpled paper.

The estimated price for the repair made us hesitate for a moment. Then I had an idea: could they retrofit it with a battery-powered movement? Yes, they could.

So, multiple effects are achieved in one go:

The senior-friendly, easy-to-read clock will start working again — only it will tick much more quietly every second and no longer need to be wound up. Its design and ease of use with regard to summer and winter time changes will remain unchanged. Turning the hands is okay, no need to grope for a tiny plastic wheel at the rear side.

Even if I were to stay there alone for a short time each month, for example, I would no longer need to wind it up every week. It would also be easier to take a midday rest or even sleep next to the clock without having to get used to the loud ticking first. Fully HSP friendly.

Fully loaded with clever ideas, but without the heavy load that is now taking a prolonged Christmas break in the workshop, we moved on to a much more pleasant part: filling our stomachs with goulash soup and cevapcici, followed by something sweet to finish.

Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash