Shall I compare Brasso to a summer’s day?

Thou art more shiny and much more fragrant.

Rough hands do shake the bottle ’til empty,

And Eight ounces’ lease hath all too short a rent.

I’m beginning to puzzle out the mysteries of my broken cuckoo clock, dubbed Amelia. She had collected a little age, so first to was to give her a good shine.

Sometime too dim the cry of movement shines,

And often is his brass complexion tarnished;

And every piece from that sometime declines,

By chance, or owner’s negligence, unpolished;

And also, you know, all the wood is broken. But right now I’m just concerned with the movement. Which is looking pretty spic ‘n’ span!

No, I’m not totally sure what those spokes are in the far right picture above. Maybe something to do with the bird? Besides that one, there’s another interesting wheel/gear too.

Strange, indeed. But at least the escapement is something I’m familiar with.

Next up, the fun building part – line up all the gears so they make sense.

Okay, going well! Until…

But thy eternal challenge shall not fade,

Nor I lose possession of my puzzle,

Nor shall Losing brag thou stuck in his shade,

When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.

So long as I can breathe, or mine eyes see,

So long lives this, I’ll not give up on thee.

Goodnight Amelia!

Cheers,

Margaret