That clock gets on my nerves, she said

'That clock gets on my nerves,' she said,
'It’s never quite right – always a few minutes fast or too slow.'
'I’ve tried adjusting it,' he said, 'but…'  'Oh I know, I know.
But why do we keep it?  We don’t need it to tell the time.'

Then why bother if it’s accurate? he thought 
'We could give it to that chap who’s collecting clocks
For some kind of art thing,' she says. 'It’s a sort of
Installation.  Makes some kind of point, I suppose.'

'It was my mum and dad’s,' he says, though he knows she knows that.
'And what would we put in its place?'
She paused. 'I don’t know,' she replied…
'Anything – a photos, a painting, a souvenir of Cleethorpes. You decide.'

So he did. When she came home from work he had
Done the deed.  The clock was gone
And in its place a nice framed photograph
Of his mum and dad.