Best of British
We meet the chaps at Bremont, and attempt to make a very tough watch
Posted: 28 Oct 2013
As you dive into this microscopic world, the artistry of these creations becomes all-consuming. The accuracy of their construction and the rhythm of their tiny parts makes any sort of car engineering seem clumsy and industrial. And I've only been dealing with the larger elements. A single hair is nine microns thick. A chronometer's movement contains elements just one micron thick. In the time it's taken me to cobble this together, the watchmaker sitting opposite me has stripped and reassembled a movement - oiling its minuscule jewels with sufficient grease to see it beat perfectly for another four years. "Give yours a wind," says Stuart. "See if it works."
I wind it. It ticks into life. And as I train my lens onto its movement for one last look at its flickering cogs, I'm struck by a strangely paternal feeling. Watchmaking: it's officially like childbirth for men. "Nice job," says Stuart, who later tells me my watch would've passed the COSC test for accuracy but spectacularly failed Bremont's exacting quality control.