The Watchmaker of Sidwell Street

After my usual, twice-weekly, five mile walk into town up the steep hills of Argyll Road and the Duryard Valley Park, and then down Rosebarn Lane into Exeter, I was passing the Odeon when I saw the watchmakers, opposite. This reminded me of something.

The eastern end of Sidwell Street is a new part of Exeter, mostly re-constructed after the war and the outside of David Cooper Watchmaker Ltd is not very promising. It is a modern, red brick building, its ground floor shop glazing all holding up about four floors of flats/maisonettes above. It is ripe for redevelopment.

Also, there used to be another watch maker sort of built into the corner of the Odeon cinema - 2 Odeon Buildings - a cubby hole in the corner just large enough to accommodate a watchmaker. But David Cooper now has a fine shopfront, maroon with heavy white lettering in one of the more modern fonts. Very professional.

In fact, about three months ago, when I was floundering in the Wormwood Scrubs of poverty, unable even to afford a sandwich, I tried to sell them a watch which they didn't want, of course. This is a professional, serious watchmakers and they don't accept any old rubbish, such as Rotary, even if it did cost £100. However, I have another Rotary watch and the battery ran flat several weeks ago; it's only since I started the new job that I now need to know the time and I've been carrying around a bedside alarm clock. Even the clock in the Renault, on the dashboard, has stopped working.

There was a time, perhaps from the age of 20 to 25, when I never used a watch. In truth, I rarely needed to know the time anyway, but I also got used to taking note every time I passed a clock or listened to the radio. There is an art to it and I found that you nearly always knew the time to within three or four minutes, sort of topping up every time you got the opportunity. But it does take quite some effort of mental concentration to operate in this manner and so in the end I started to wear a wristwatch.

I remember when I worked as a door-to-door canvasser all over Los Angeles in the summer of 1990, my manager - a dubious, sanctimonious, 'godly' man at Friends of the United Nations, a 'charity' that attempted to raise support for the UN (?) - told me that he had once operated the same system. Incidentally, this was a summer exchange/visa system under the auspices of BUNAC (Bowling Green Lane, near Farringdon, whose offices I visited to complete the paper work); I later worked for a similar, though better charity, called Citizens for a Better Environment (so successfully, in fact, that they tried to persuade me to stay on when I said I was returning to Britain).

"Do you replace batteries in watches?" I showed him my watch.

"Yes, of course; take a seat."

He took my watch to the watch repairer at the back of the shop, visible through a specially made window. He was busy at work and looked like a total professional, surrounded by the accoutrements of his trade, various machines and lots of clocks and watches. Screwdrivers and vices of varying descriptions. This was a truly professional watch shop. Unlike H Samuel who do no repairs at all and simply advised me to go to Debenhams. I would say that David Cooper Watchmakers are the Royal Clarence Hotel of Exeter watch shops (with H Samuel the corner cafe, or perhaps McDonalds, as it were).

The proprietor - Mr Cooper - reminded me of the Gunsmith (the actor Syril Cusack) in the film Day of the Jackal. He was very - inordinately, perhaps - polite and totally dedicated to his work, just the sort of attitude you like to see in a professional. He could almost have said 'will the gentleman be standing?' had he been in the firearms trade.

The shop was a delight, its walls covered in watches and clocks of every known genre and make. There was a James Stewart (of Armagh) grandfather clock for £5190 and various other makes and types, including a Barograph with plotting arm and so forth. I imagine there is a scientist of some sort at the Met Office who has been there for thirty years, relocated from Bracknell, and has been into this very shop, an obsessive of horology and barometers.

There was a Snell grandfather clock, too. And, as it was just turning 1 o'clock, I was treated to the reality of 'on the hour' in a true watchmakers shop, a whole euphony of chimes and bells; there might even have been a cuckoo clock. Perhaps Orson Welles, in the great film The Third Man, was wrong to ridicule the Swiss, after all.

In the mean time, Mr Cooper finished with his existing customer. He paid and then departed, saying that he hoped to return again.

"I very much hope so, indeed." said Mr Cooper, the epitome of politeness, and it was then that I discerned a definite Ulster accent, possibly Belfast though less harsh and mellower. I wonder if Cooper is an Ulster name?

Meanwhile, his assistant, the workman, just four minutes later presented me with my watch, now ticking away very well. He was delighted and so was I. £5.50, a very large sum for me these days, but a job very well done, all in good time.

If you require first class service and professional watchmaking expertise of the highest order then there is no other place to go in Exeter than David Cooper.

David Cooper Watchmakers Ltd:
http://www.exeter-clocks.co.uk/