Pop Shield

On 1st April 2007, the Actual Time Signal being transmitted from Rugby was turned off. From that point onwards, the MSF radio signal has been broadcast twenty-four hours a day from The National Physical Laboratory in Anthorn, Cumbria. It operates on a frequency of 60kHz and carries a date and time code that can be received and decoded by a wide range of readily available radio-controlled clocks. That is, every single flaming clock in the country bar the one in the Little Sister workshop. Where it has been four o’clock for several years now. It’s been driving me nuts and has panicked most of the visitors to the workshop into thinking they are late for something.

Whether it’s the decrease in effective radiated power of the transmitter, or perhaps the fact that with lead windows and a building frame full of metal, the clock is sitting in a faraday cage – who knows. But at lunchtime today, I finally decided that enough was enough and I took the clock for a little walk to try and catch the code.

First of all, I replaced the old AA battery with a fresh one. The clock hands started spinning around as usual. Then, I crossed the public piazza into the sunshine and stood and waited. A man approached me. ”What are you doing?” he asked. ”I’m waiting for a signal” I said. “What’s that, solar-powered?” ”Not quite.” I replied. “It’s radio-controlled.” ”Well. I have mental health problems and I’m pretty sure the sunshine does something funny to MY brain mechanism” comes the unexpected reply. At that moment, the clock hands whizz straight past the current time (1:12pm) and I conclude it might be time to move on. I bid the gentleman goodbye and head off. Intended destination: The roof of The Mothership.

“Nice watch!” quips the security guard as I pass through reception. I enter the art deco elevator, press 7, and head for the balcony on the seventh floor, where Dublin rockers Me Too famously played. Oh, and where Maso Mercury – somewhat less famously – pastiched it a couple of weeks ago. It’s dead nice up there!

On the seventh floor, I slip outside through the sliding door, which is ajar. I park myself – admittedly, a little self-consciously – on a wooden picnic chair with the clock in my lap. I replace the battery again. The hands whizz around to midday. I wait. Nothing.

Oh god, if I’m not going to pick it up here, where the hell am I? I try again. Spins round to four o’clock then stops. For ages. Right, that’s it, I haven’t got all day to wait for this to sort itself. I give up.

So, thwarted, I walk back to Little Sister and replace the clock on the wall. Ten minutes or so later, Justin sticks his head around the door of the workshop. ”Can I jump in here later?” he asks. ”Of course, what kind of time?” I reply. ”Hmm, about four-ish?” he says, and then he clocks the clock. “Oh gawd, it’s not that time already?!“he exclaims. ”Oh no, don’t worry, it’s always four o’clock in here” I say. “I’ll see you later, Justin. Just come back whenever you want, rest assured it will be 4pm.”