It’s about time we brought back the wristwatch

Rab’s distrust of digital devices means telling the time hasn’t been his forte recently. But what happened to the simpler times when we didn’t have to swipe to answer a call or find out when lunch is?

It’s about time I started wearing a watch. At times, I guess we all think of ourselves as free spirits, unthirled to the clock.

But if we took that too seriously, we’d be late for appointments, miss deadlines and, more importantly, find the footer kicking off without us. It’s not very practical, so we need some means of telling the time.

I know what you’re going to say next: “It’s on your portable telephone, big nose.” I ken that. And I now rely on my phone to tell me the time. But it’s hopeless. And it looks daft tied to my wrist.

That’s if I remember to take it with me at all. I don’t get how everyone remembers to do this. I forget about 25% of the time. It is, I admit, getting better. I rarely ever used to remember the phone, but I guess it’s now like the wallet, keys and trousers: arguably essential whenever you’re heading up town.

But I do still frequently forget my phone. Just one of those things that no one else does any more, like stalling their car or having their card declined at the checkout. Only ever happens to me.

Even if you remember the portable phone, it’s no guarantee it’ll tell you the time. On my phone, you have to swipe up the screen to open it, which works about 36.2% of the time.

The whole thing is ridiculous. You have to swipe across to answer calls, which works about 36.1% of the time.

Sometimes, the screen just looks totally different, doubtless due to some icon having been touched inadvertently, and no amount of swiping lets you answer a call.

Happened to me with a really important one recently. Blasted phone kept ringing out, with people turning to look, as in growing desperation I swiped up, doon, east and west to no avail.

And sometimes, when you take out your phone the digital time is there, writ large, and sometimes it just ain’t. Sometimes it recedes into a wee corner where it’s too small to read. There’s no rhyme nor reason to it.

It would help if there were more clocks in public places. But it seems positively Victorian now to provide anything of public convenience (including public conveniences). It’s not just clocks. They don’t provide benches or free beer dispensed from carts like they used to in the old days.

Even at many cinemas, you can’t find a board telling you what films are on. You’re supposed to look it up on your phone, I guess.

So, I’m toying with the idea of buying an old-fashioned watch, and preferably a mechanical one at that, though a brief foray into the market reveals these to be rare. I’m not knocking the digital age. No, hang on, I am knocking the digital age. And why? Because of a nagging feeling that telling the time, finding out what films are on, tuning into a radio station and playing a piece of music are all more complicated than they used to be.

It’s not that I want to live in a time warp. I just want the time to be told to me by something that has hands… and that doesn’t have to be swiped first.