Sunday, 8 September 2013

The Conjuring: 3.07

At my rented room in Dairy Farm. The little clock
that went awry is next to the table lamp.
INDEED, it was rather a scary movie. But I think I was more scared by the reviews in the papers -- and by the accounts of the people making the movie -- than by the actual movie.

Anyway, the movie reminded me of the time when I was staying at a rented room at Dairy Farm. There was nothing eerie about the house at all. It was a bright, cheery house. My landlord was a very nice chap who had decorated it with pride -- giving it a contemporary feel. Nothing went slam in the night, or loud banging at the door... or anything. Least of all, a hidden cellar.

But one morning, I woke up to find that my little alarm clock had stopped. I couldn't remember the time it stopped, but definitely not at 3.07 (not that I could remember, and I do hope it wasn't 3.07!). I thought the battery had gone and reminded myself to get new ones. I came home only to remember that I haven't gotten new batteries.

But there wasn't any need for them after all. I looked in surprise at that tiny clock which showed precisely the same time as my watch. I held it against my ear, and I could hear its faint ticks. Certainly even if it decided to start ticking again (maybe its mechanism got jammed for a while) the time would be off.

I asked my landlord whether he did anything to my clock. He said he didn't know I had an alarm clock in the first place. Why should I need an alarm clock when his cat acted as one? (It would climb up the cupboard near my bed and then jumped onto my chest, at 6am everyday.)

When I told him how the clock had "righted" itself and with such precision, he said this gave him goose pimples. There was only my landlord, myself and a cat living in the house.

Anyway, the clock continued as though it had never stopped a moment. It didn't need a change of battery at all -- till some years later -- a clear case of flat batteries.

No comments: