N
othwithstanding the age gap of nearly
150 years, Baron Ferdinand de
Rothschild proved a key inf luence on
Lucy Herbert. Like the Shah of Persia
before her, the young Lucy was
captivated by the mechanical elephant
on show at the good baron’s Victorian pile, Waddesdon
Manor. “My grandparents thought ‘plonk her in front of
it and she’ll be entertained for hours’,” she recalls.
Thus was born a love of all things clockwork.
Dismantling and reassembling her mum’s music box
(“I don’t even know if she knows, to be honest!”) was
but the first step on the long and spring-winding road
to becoming accredited by the British Horological
Institute and establishing her own business.
Throughout, the fascination remains the same.
“Clockwork is like a living thing. People will say their
watches are ‘poorly’ or ‘not quite right’; horologists talk
about things ‘not breathing properly’. It’s like ‘I have to
take care of you, keep you alive’.”
The capacity for childhood hobby to become future
career was first seen while on work experience from
school. “The main thing I remember is racks and racks
of longcase clocks,” recalls Lucy. “The sound was
absolutely amazing, almost like running water. When
my mum came to pick me up, I remember saying, ‘I’m
going to clockmaking college!’”
Not everyone at school was thrilled at the prospect. “I
went to my careers counsellor and was told ‘Nobody
repairs clocks, go and be a horticulturalist’. Then I got to
college and learnt there’s a desperate need for clock and
watchmakers in this country.”
Upon course completion, Lucy returned to her work
experience mentor. “You’re by no means a master watch
or clockmaker by then. Until you’ve seen hundreds of
different types, you can’t know exactly what you’re
looking at; you need a run-up of ten years or so to take
everything in.” Things like singing bird boxes. “Theycan be a complete headache, but they’re magical. Some
of the high-end ones are absolutely amazing: birds’
heads turn, they whistle.” As for the finest mechanisms,
“French clocks are just beautiful. You look at them and
think, ‘You knew what you were doing’.”
Whether opening up the most complex automata or the
humblest timekeeper, there’s an inherent intimacy in
Lucy’s work. With pocket watches in particular, she says,
“there’s so much work that only you and the original
clockmaker are going to see. That’s quite special, a
connection over the years.” And then there’s the level of
engagement. “As opposed to a table, there’s an
interaction with a clock, a life that it brings: the chime,
the strike, the sound, holds in people’s hearts.”
At the moment, 30-year-old Lucy is rather a rarity in a
trade where, she says, the average demographic is a man
“pushing 70 or 80. But the gender split in universities is
now much more even; we’re making ourselves
represented.” And, unlike many other furrows in the
analogue field, the future looks not only assured but
divergent. “Clockwork is built to be repaired, to last, and
that idea is having a resurgence. I saw a Kickstarter
where someone had used the principle of a cuckoo clock
rigged to an LED light, designed for countries that
struggle to get a steady supply of electricity.”
It is customary for an interviewer to leave their most
awkward question until last. So, ahem, Lucy: have you
ever owned a digital watch? “Oh, yes, I love my Casio!
I’m not a huge collector; I have my granddad’s watches
and my dad’s, and my nan’s. I get more enjoyment from
fixing things than collecting.”
runninglikeclockwork.com“There’s so much work only you
and the original clockmaker
will see. That’s quite special”THINK (^) | CRAFTSMANSHIP