Maxwell.

This is my grandfathers clock. I guess you could say that to me, it is, in the true sense of the word a grandfather clock. It was built in New York in 1894 and has a standing cathedral gong that is struck on the full and half hour. In our recent trip to Adelaide it was passed on to me from my dad. He knows it will be in safe hands. The amazing thing is that in over twenty years since this clock has been apart from my grandfather, when you open the rear door to retrieve the key, it still smells like grandpa's house. And all those memories come flooding back.
I instantly remember way back as a little kid when we used to go up to see grandpa in the old XB Falcon, we would all go inside to greet grandpa and time after time I would make a beeline for the clock. At times I would get the chance to go and stay with grandpa, just me and grandpa, sitting in the lounge room with the sound of the ocean crashing on the shore in the background outside and nice and warm inside with the sound of this very clock ticking away. It stood prominently on a mantle above a cosy oil heater that would keep the house warm even when the wind was howling outside. I spent hours in front of this clock. You know those funny things you do when you are a kid like stand in front of a clock and try to figure it out by literally watching the minute hand to see it move so slowly. If you stand there long enough and are persistent enough you can get a feel for the hour hand moving as well. Well it was this very clock that I remember doing this with and now it has returned to me so that even as a grown adult I can still stand there in front of this clock and stare at it again. At night in bed I hear the chime and I could be back in grandpa's house sleeping as a child.
It feels good.
Thanks Dad xxx

Ps. To add to the sentimental value of this image, I just realised it was taken using my dad's original pentax lens shown earlier here.