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Edward Timewell
May 02, 2025. 4 min read

Edward Timewell's Reflections on Time: Part Three

Greetings once more, dear readers. Edward Timewell here, your companion in the endless dance with time. In my previous musings, we explored time’s slippery nature—how it bends with our emotions and weaves memories through the stories of cherished watches. Today, let’s turn our gaze to a theme close to my heart: legacy. As a collector who’s spent decades cradling the craftsmanship of yesteryear, I find myself pondering what our timepieces—and our time—leave behind. Join me, perhaps with a glass of sherry in hand, as we consider the enduring echo of a well-lived moment.

Watches as Heirlooms

In horology, a watch is more than a mechanism; it’s a vessel for legacy. I recently had the privilege of examining a 1920s Cartier Tank, passed down through three generations of a Devonshire family. Its crystal bore faint scratches, its hands a gentle patina, yet it ticked with the same resolve as the day it left the workshop. As I held it, I imagined the hands that wound it: a grandfather in a tailored suit, a father teaching his son to tell time, a grandson now wearing it with pride. Each tick carried their joys, their sorrows, their lives.

This is the magic of a fine timepiece. Unlike so many modern trinkets, a watch is built to endure—not just in function, but in meaning. It binds generations, whispering stories of those who came before. I think of my own collection: a 1940s Longines that once graced my uncle’s wrist during his RAF days, now resting in my care. When I wear it, I feel him beside me, his quiet courage ticking in time with my own heartbeat. What greater legacy could one ask for than to be remembered in such a tangible, living way?

Time’s Lasting Footprint

This notion of legacy extends beyond watches to the time we spend. As I approach my later years, I find myself reflecting on what I’ll leave behind. Not grand monuments or fortunes, but moments—choices that ripple forward. A kind word to a stranger, a lesson shared with a young collector, a quiet evening spent listening to my wife’s laughter. These are my heirlooms, less tangible than a Rolex Oyster but no less enduring.

Horology teaches us this: quality endures. A well-crafted watch, like a well-lived life, doesn’t chase fleeting trends. It’s built with intention, designed to outlast its maker. I often tell aspiring collectors to choose pieces that speak to them, not the market. A Patek Philippe isn’t prized for its price tag but for its timeless elegance, its ability to tell a story decades hence. So too should we craft our days—with care, with purpose, with an eye to what will matter when the hands stop turning.

A Call to Craft Your Legacy

Here’s my challenge, dear readers, born of sixty years and countless escapements: live with the deliberation of a master watchmaker. Make time for what endures—love, learning, the small acts that stitch lives together. When I wind my uncle’s Longines, I’m reminded that legacy isn’t about permanence but presence. Be present, and your time will echo in ways you can scarcely imagine.

What legacy will your timepieces carry? Perhaps a wristwatch gifted to a child, or a moment so vivid it becomes a family tale. I’d wager we all have a story to tell, a tick to pass on. Share yours with me, and let’s celebrate the timeless art of living.

In Closing

Time, as I’ve learned, is both fleeting and eternal. It slips through our fingers, yet lingers in the objects and moments we cherish. As I sit by my study window, a 1930s Jaeger-LeCoultre humming softly, I’m struck by the beauty of this paradox. Our watches, our lives—they’re but a moment in the grand sweep of time, yet they can resonate forever.

What of your legacy, friends? How will your time be remembered? Drop me a line, and let’s continue this horological odyssey together.

With a nod and a tick,

Edward Timewell


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