Big Ben will no longer bong
THE iconic clock, located centrally within London’s Houses of Parliament, fell silent for the first time in 10 years on Monday for renovation works which are expected to last up to four years.
London’s majestic time keeper has had its share of admirers. It’s also broken many hearts.
In fact, I had a gay friend who once travelled all the way to London only to find, to his unspeakable anguish, that Big Ben was a clock.
But I digress, as usual. We were talking about a major refurbishment to an emblem of all things British.
The renovation, according to the Daily Telegraph, includes the installation of a lift and repairs to the clock’s hands, mechanism and pendulum.
And its cost is already expected to raise the hackles of Parliament. On paper, it’s supposed to cost £29mil but, given that a Malaysian firm is overseeing the repairs, variation orders could place the final bill at close to £60mil.
It was the 21st Century’s embodiment of globalisation where a Third World country exports its cutting-edge technology – variation orders, in Malaysia’s case – to a First World nation.
Stephen Pound is one of the parliamentarians calling for a rethink to stop Big Ben being silenced for the longest period in its 157-year history.
Pound, a sterling sort of chappie by all respects, thought that “like-minded traditionalists” should protest the silencing of the great bell traditionally, that is to say, gather around, drink ale and lustily sing “for it’s a jolly good bellow.”
“Bellow” is hardly an understatement. At close range, the chimes of the giant clock can reach 118 decibels. If you think that’s nothing, a full-throttle Pink Floyd concert, by way of contrast, can reach around 120 decibels.
But who was Ben? Many believe it was named after a famous actor of the mid-19th century who had more dates than Syria. But that has been regretfully ruled out.
It might also be the British way of honouring Benedict Arnold who betrayed the American revolution- aries in favour of their English rulers because he preferred tea over coffee. In fact, he outraged the Americans and found favour with the British by bringing his own cucumber sandwiches to the Boston Tea Party.
Or it might have been named in memory of Benjamin Franklin, a kindly, if eccentric, old gentleman partial to flying kites during electrical storms when not otherwise occupied with helping draft the US Declaration of Independence.
Old Ben would have approved of his name being affixed to a British clock: as a famous personality, he’d been on a calendar but he’d never been on time. But he was a philosophical gent: he knew that sooner or later, he would be punctual.
But the truth is probably a lot more prosaic. Big Ben is believed to be named after its maker, one Sir Benjamin Hall, who might even have been pleased with a stopped Big Ben as it would still be correct at least twice a day.
Londoners, a generally stoic breed when bombed or terrorised, have grown accustomed to the silence. For years, their lives had been ruled by the chimes of the mighty clock. It woke them up in the mornings and lulled them to sleep at night.
And out of that Grandfather of All Clocks was the doughty British work ethic forged.
It was simple and ingenious and we would be wise to adopt it: the sooner you fall behind, the more time you’ll have to catch up.