Away From Desk - Reflecting on London and My Time in Watches
Photo taken by Chris Antzoulis - a clock I found in London
My trip to England was chock full of memorable moments. Mostly meeting both new and old friends in the watch industry. However, there’s one moment that I can’t stop playing on a loop in my mind. To understand this particular memory, I first need to share what happened the day before my final day in England, in Maidenhead, just outside London.
Photo taken by Alexa Emma - Chris with his bestie in London
I spent most of my time in Maidenhead visiting the wonderful folks at Christopher Ward. I also spent time with my friends, Alexa and James. We were able to tour their new headquarters, share ideas with the brand's employees, and even catch a glimpse of what’s coming next (more on that in another article). Instead, I want to take this opportunity to reflect. I know that sounds as enjoyable as a dentist’s waiting room (not my dentist’s office…he’s fantastic…no cavities…just keep that fucking drill away from me)…anyway, hear me out.
It was just two years ago that I was simply a dude who loved watches a bit too much. Not even a year prior, it was merely a hobby I enjoyed on my own. No Instagram, no RedBar, no community—just me watching YouTube videos and reading books and articles. Then, one happy accident after another led me to start writing in this industry. I assure you, I don’t know any more about watches and horology than a large percentage of the folks who read my work. What I do understand is what brings me joy, and then I take the time to express it. Sharing how wonderful it felt to be at Christopher Ward’s headquarters, shaking hands with founders Mike France and Peter Ellis, and having their Communications Executive, Andrew, show us around the space and the town afterward is a privilege (whether big or small) that I don’t take lightly. It’s surreal to be a hobbyist in something and then be taken seriously by those whose work you once admired from afar.
While all of that meant a great deal to me personally and professionally, the moment I’ve been holding onto occurred right after we left. James headed home, and Alexa and I were hungry, so we decided to grab a bite in town. Andrew pointed out a pasta place that was unfortunately closed and a pub that wasn’t serving food yet. Across the street, there was a small burger joint, and we decided to take a chance on a burger outside the U.S. (Listen, there’s not much to brag about regarding the U.S. right now, but you gotta let us have burgers). I’m happy to report that the burgers and fries were outstanding. They were cooked for us on the spot by the chef/owner, we took our plates to a counter against the window, sat on a couple of uneven stools, and began enjoying our meal.
By the time we sat down, we were the only two patrons in the small establishment, which had maybe five or six seats. While we were fueling up, a pregnant woman walked in to place a to-go order with the owner. They must have at least been acquainted in passing, as the owner felt comfortable pointing out that this woman seemed preoccupied and troubled, so he asked how she was doing. Remember, at that moment, I was ramming French fries into my mouth like an orc with a battering ram trying to breach the walls of Helms Deep. So, I was not prepared (nor was Alexa) for this woman to tell him that she’s been in such anguish over her nine-year-old son being hospitalized, battling leukemia.
Photo taken by James McVey with his vintage pocket point-and-shoot of Chris at the Time + Tide after-party, having reached maximum tired
Our eyes widened. We both set down our food, and our necks froze. A piercing sadness enveloped me, and I couldn’t bring myself to turn around; that level of pain felt unfathomable. Nothing I could say, no concerned look I could offer, would provide any comfort to this person. But the owner of the burger joint didn’t miss a beat. He consoled her, implying that she must be a brilliant mother for being so strong for her son and family that she chose to express this grief in this way. He reassured her to keep fighting and empathized with her by sharing his story of losing his sister a few years back to cancer at 37. My eyes went wide again at his pain and also because I AM 37!
They exchanged a few more words; he finished preparing her food, and she went on her way. The silence in the room was deafening. My neurodivergent brain couldn’t handle it. I slowly rotated in my seat and told the owner that I was truly sorry to hear about his sister. He looked at me and replied, “Thank you. But what can you do? That’s life.” He paused for a moment and added, “My sister was at least 37; she lived a life. That’s not fair to happen to a little boy.”
We finished our meal, thanked him for everything, and left. We spent a few minutes sympathizing with that woman’s situation on the way back to the train, then moved on. Yet, that moment has been lodged in my ribs ever since. It was tragic, but I disagreed with the owner of the burger joint on one point: that his sister had lived a life. At 37, I feel as though I’ve only just begun to uncover who I am, what I need, and in recent years, I’ve become more intentional about how I spend my time. I hope his sister figured it out much sooner and that she enjoyed her own self-worth longer than I have.
Chris, James, and Alexa - Who knew Italian in London could be so good?!
I’ve spent too much time listening to what others wanted for me and chasing the kind of life I thought I was expected to lead. All these efforts left me feeling unhappy. What’s the point of that? I even tried to talk myself out of going to London for the British Watchmaker’s Day event in the first place, convincing myself it cost too much and that I’d be acting frivolously with money (the irony of a watch collector believing that spending money on their own well-being is frivolous is not lost on me). It wasn’t until my friend Alexa encouraged me to pursue the things that brought me happiness that I finally decided I was worth the expense. She did end up inviting herself along, so there was some motive behind her persuasion, but it was mostly a sincere gesture, I assure you. Anyone who knows me well understands my passion for this community because it has given me so much acceptance. I need to stop placing roadblocks on a journey I love, as life can change or end in an instant. Therefore, we shouldn’t waste any time convincing ourselves not to pursue our passions.
When I first started writing in this space, I referred to myself as a watch journalist, but I now realize that I am not quite that, and somehow so much more. While I have a background in marketing and branding, I understand that this isn’t truly what I’m doing. I love collaborating with brands because I can often sense the genuine passion of those working in watches. I can’t stress enough how unnecessary watches are, yet people still create them, and we continue to buy them. It’s art, tradition, a craft, but most importantly, we carry them with us to encapsulate memories with the people and places that matter to us. I have become obsessed with sharing my passions, and I hope to keep doing that. We are a community of individuals gathered around a metaphor—that we have a limited amount of time to share with one another and we are reaching for moments to connect.
***Even now my mind hasn’t left that burger joint. I hope that little boy is okay. I hope that mother and her family can one day focus on each other and their passions again.
