The Ticking of the Tell-Tale Heart

Or: A Swedish household goods shop’s homage to Edgar Allan Poe.

I’m a traditional kind of guy. Some might go so far as to call it old-fashioned. The kind of person who’s not quite a CAMRA member but hankers after some Dylan to listen to every now and again. I like cosy pubs with dark wooden tables, real fires and men who sit side-by-side with their dogs rather than Weatherspoons (although I’m sure an old-man theme-pub is probably on the cards any day now). I don’t have a digital radio and still enjoy the crackle of vinyl records.

This means I also like the idea of a traditional alarm clock. I don’t wear a watch, and I haven’t done for at least 11 years. I find the idea of strapping a battery-powered gizmo to my arm so that I can constantly see the man-made division of days, and that I’m constantly late, unappealing. Instead I have a pocket watch. A mechanical, wind-up, pocket watch, so that I have to make an effort to find out what the time is. In a similar way, I like the idea of a traditional alarm clock.

I finally caved in the other day, and I know have a traditional alarm clock. One with a hammer and two bells. One where you have to wind it up. And wind up the bell. And set the regulator to make sure it doesn’t run too fast or too slow. I’m sure most people would find that stupid – a battery can take all of those tasks away – but like tinkering with my bicycle, it’s that hands-on quality that makes it satisying.

The traditional alarm clock I now have has a draw-back though. It’s from Ikea, and cost me the satisyingly old-fashioned price of £3.59, or something like that. It’s black and has two little bells, and looks a bit like this:

It’s also got one problem – it’s sooo amazingly loud! There is absolutely no chance of me oversleeping with this one – it stops you from ever getting to sleep in the first place! I actually fell-apart with a fit of the giggles the first night. Who made this thing? Certainly someone who either works in a very loud workplace, or who has some severe hearing impairment. Tick I tick want tick to tick go tick to tick sleep. It ticks four times per second. FOUR TIMES PER SECOND.

This is how I can see the next few nights going. At first I will try to persevere, and try not to notice its problem. I’ll avoid making eye contact. But eventually I will crack. Eventually I will crack. I’ve fantasised about what I’ll do. I’ll smother it with the pillow until its ticking is gone. Then I’ll smash it into a thousand pieces and bury it under the floorboards. And because I’m too proud to admit in this case the traditional is not as good as the little battery-powered clock I’d been using before, I’ll have to bury it to hide it. But it will continue ticking. Maybe the lovely Sarah and visitors to the house won’t hear it. But how can they not hear it when it’s so loud? It will continue to tick forever, forever haunting me. I will never be free… tick… tick… tick.. tick…

** My apologies to Edgar Allan for this post.