In a little street, just off the cathedral of Argentan, the clockmaker has his atelier: Le Diable au Cadran (The Devil in the Dial). It is a small shop, chockfull of clocks that tick and chime like crazy. There is hardly room to manoevre, but the clockmaker is at ease in his domain.
He is a man in his forties, who used to be a journalist. Those must have been his young and wild years, when he drove dashing old-timers and went out drinking with his pals. Now he has become more philosophical.
His French is beautiful, his tongue caressing the words as he speaks . A smile on his face, warmed by the thoughtful wisdom in his heart.
P. and I love going to his shop. To see the craftmanship, to hear the man talk clocks (our clock!) and books, and to hear about his general outlook on life.
And frankly out of sheer curiosity: to see a tiny glimpse of what makes this clockmaker tick!