Old Father Time

He’s having a panic – he can’t find his watch. We have only changed the time on it an hour ago and left it on the bedside table but now he claims it is lost. Of course, he hasn’t moved it. He hasn't lost it. It has moved. It is lost.

I stand idly while my partner immediately goes into hunt mode, picking up things and looking under his dad’s little mountains of discarded trouser and shirts. I listen to him running about for five minutes and then suggest they think about where he has been in the house. The bathroom is searched, the kitchen. No joy.

'What does the watch look like?' I ask. Metal. Silver. 'So what’s that...' I point to Jack’s wrist where the watch has been all along! It's Gaslight all over again.

Of course his bedside clock/radio is also on the blink. He can’t reset the time... no scratch that.... The clock won’t work—it’s gone wonky – it won’t keep time. Every time the electrician turns the power on and of it has to be reset. He wants a new clock. NOW!! Richard says he will get one when he is out.

'I want to do it now! Take me round to the shop!'

'But it’s next door to Tesco. You go there every day; it’s literally next door to it.'

'I can’t walk that far. I want you to take me.'

'Okay we'll go later'

'Later, later! It's always later with you. I want it now!'

Father and son go their separate ways both angry looking. Daddy is muttering loudly while I chip in with inane comments in my cheerful fairy voice asking if a radio is necessary or just a clock – and he shows me the buttons on the clock to demonstrate it doesn’t work. He doesn’t actually do anything with the buttons just brandishes the clock with loud mutterings but I get the gist.

Within minutes a new clock has been fetched from the nearby shop (it is quicker for one of us to go without him). It has blue illuminated figures about 3 inches high and we await the grumbling about how the brightness of the display is keeping him awake.