"Oh, my Grandmother had one of those – chopped the case up for firewood!" Its amazing really that after more than a quarter of a century buying and selling antique longcase clocks or Grandfather clocks as people incorrectly but affectionately choose to call them, that I should still be taken aback when someone, on finding out what I do for a living, insists on regaling me with the sordid details of their forbears vandalism.

Not that my own family get off scot-free you understand; my own Grandmother consigned the family treasure to the bonfire one Guy Fawkes night, because the back had once played host to a family of woodworm. The appearance of their exit holes had filled the old dear with such horror that the first unsuspecting urchins to knock at our door that November asking for a "penny for the Guy", were presented with the case of our fine Liverpool longcase clock and requested to "put that on your bonfire for us love!" My Grandmother was fond of telling anyone who’d listen, how she had saved the family pile, a modest seaside semi-detached villa, from crumbling to a pile of dust around our very feet. I was not so sure, and was wracked with guilt that my feeble pleadings of a reprieve fell on deaf ears. A hard burden for a six year old to carry, and probably the reason why I now feel duty bound to save every fine Liverpool clock that I can, and re-home it with an appreciative family. Its probably also the reason why I’d never have made it as a barrister, the thought of seeing some poor innocent soul being sent down by the Judge, because of my incompetent submissions would make me feel six years old again and reduce me to tears.

It doesn’t really matter what you call them, grandfather clocks, longcase clocks, or if you’re one of our American cousins even tallcase clocks, but almost everyone has their own tale to tell. And it is for this reason that they hold a special place in our lives. As an insight into social history they are fascinating, and because makers were required to sign their work - although not all of them did, we can, through local and national record offices often trace the lives of the men and women who made them.

The years between 1700 and 1830, were the heyday of the longcase clock – I hope you don’t mind me now using the correct term! Throughout towns and villages provincial clockmakers were plying their trade. London had its own trade which developed independently following what was fashionable for the wealthier inhabitants. Provincial clockmakers however, followed their own instincts and regional styles developed in both case work and movements. Some were extremely inventive in their work and it is interesting to note that it was provincially trained makers who were responsible for some of the great inventions of the day although they did often have to go to London to find fame and fortune. Even possibly the most famous of all clockmakers – Thomas Tompion, regarded by many as the father of English clockmaking, was born at Northill in Bedfordshire in 1638. It was not until he was into his thirties that he first appeared in London.

Longcase clocks come in a variety of different styles. Throughout the earlier years of the period, the brass dial with silvered chapter ring and ornate spandrels (corner pieces) were standard practice on both London and provincial clocks. After around 1780 the painted dial became popular in the provinces whilst the London call for longcase clocks almost completely died out. Cases came in a variety of woods depending on the fashion of the time, fine walnut, marquetry, and lacquered chinoiserie in the early years in London. In the country, oak in the early years and oak or mahogany later on. The bulk of a provincial clockmakers work was the simple thirty-hour clock; so called because it was made to run for just over a day between windings. Housed in a locally made oak case these one-day or cottage clocks are often surprisingly sophisticated, remarkable when you think that they were engineered by people who often could not read or write yet had the mathematic knowledge to work out, often complicated wheelwork. Even more so when you consider that they only worked with natural light using mostly hand tools. The documented cost of one of these most simple of clocks in the late eighteenth century would equate to more than two years of a farm laborers wages. No wonder that only the very wealthiest people could afford an eight-day clock costing at least more than twice the price of the standard thirty-hour.

Longcase clocks are enjoying a period of great popularity these days. No longer are they the Cinderella of the antique dealer’s ball. They are revered for their place in our history and the tales that they can tell us. My own clock has witnessed the Stuart, Hanover and Windsor monarchies, survived Napoleonic, and two world wars, is still ticking long after the invention of the internal combustion engine and with it the motor car that now rules our lives, seen men take to the sky’s and land on the moon. The maker probably went no further than twenty or thirty miles from his home, and almost certainly never travelled to another county let alone another country. Yet his workmanship is of such quality that nearly three centuries later, the movement that he constructed all those years ago is still accurate to within thirty seconds a week!

Of course, popularity and scarcity of genuine examples has led to a re-appraisal of prices. When I started my business I still had a full head of jet-black hair, a thirty-hour clock could be bought for five pounds, and an eight-day clock for ten. Oh how times change! A good genuine thirty-hour in its original case will cost you upwards of three thousand pounds from a good dealer, maybe as much as seven thousand pounds for a very early and consequently very rare example. That Liverpool clock that my Grandmother consigned to the bonfire all those years ago, was eight-day duration and showed not only the time but also the moons age as well as the times of high tide; I found a new owner for a similar example recently and there was little more than the bus fare home from the price of sixteen thousand pounds. Still only a fraction of the original cost in real terms, but nevertheless a serious purchase. If you really wanted to push the boat out, a Thomas Tompion longcase clock found a new owner recently in London for close to half a million pounds!

So choose a clock carefully and it will provide good service and be a talking point at dinner parties. A good dealer will guide you through the buying process, point out restorations and guarantee the clock, almost certainly deliver and install it for you and train you gently in its operation. A totally painless process with the right dealer. And if you should happen across a short balding grey haired dealer, reduced to tears at the sight of a fine Liverpool longcase clock – spare a thought its really only a six year old boy remembering the family heirloom.