My brother got married in the late 80’s. This was a time when every aunty arrived with hoovers, deep-fat-friers and the quint essential carriage clocks, of which they received 9 (we’ve countless aunties)! Needless to say some of these twirling, ball-bearing domes had been passed on from cousins who got married the month before and thus were also passed on to the next (I wouldn’t say unsuspecting) bride and groom. And there the story becomes legend about the carriage clocks that were ‘carriaged’ around all the cousins getting married in the summer of 89.
What a difference a generation makes. Now we spend our carriage clock time scrolling with our index finger, overloading our consumerised retinas, scanning for the perfect gift that says ‘pick me!!’
So as the courier rolls up with the brown amazon box all the way from Kurdistan… the most taxing thing we have to do is sign for it…and then there’s the slight guilt about lack of effort, even though we trolled for hours.
So maybe it’s not so much the gift, but the story behind it, that lives on in the memory. Now unless you’re Billy Connolly, it’s difficult to conceive the hilarity of a brown box, with a smile, arriving at the door. However, when we visit our nearest craft shop, the owner will inform about the makers back story, the process, the product’s historical/geographical/modern concept and lots of other little quirks and sometimes a funny story to accompany it.
So if we’re looking for a ‘carriage clock’ story that stands the test of time maybe give our index fingers a rest and actively ‘look local’ for it.