This blog is generally about fountain pens as the name suggests, but I write to relate a recent tale in the world of watches. My excuse for this digression is that many people who enjoy fountain pens feel the same way about mechanical watches.

Whilst I have more than my fair share of high quality fountain pens, I do also enjoy seeing how good a writing experience can be had for minimal outlay. I regularly use a Cross Bailey Light which cost about £20.00 and various inexpensive pens from China. To a lesser extent, this curiosity sometimes spills over to watches.

Having owned several high-end watches I thought I knew a reasonable amount about automatics. It turns out that there were some glaring gaps in my knowledge.

First of all, I had looked down rather snobbishly on the brand Lorus, but learned only recently that the brand was formed by the Seiko Watch Corporation, the mighty Japanese giant and introduced in Europe in 1982. They are aimed at the lower end of the market for people seeking quality watches at affordable prices.

On a recent stay in Chichester, I was strolling the high street when I came across a display of Lorus automatics, in H Samuels. The one that caught my eye was the black dial, military-style watch with a day/date window. Given that Seiko automatics now start at around £260.00, a Lorus at £129.99 is one of the cheapest entry level options. Furthermore, H Samuel were offering 20% off, bring the price of this model to around £103.00. I walked on.

A week or so later, back home in London I visited my local H Samuel branch hoping to take a closer look at this model. Alas, they told me that they no longer sold Lorus watches in their branch but only online. That particular model was (and still is) available on the H Samuel website but I did not pursue it. The price was certainly attractive but I was deterred by the day and the date window, envisaging that for a watch worn only occasionally, I would be forever resetting these.

A little later, whilst in John Lewis and enjoying my customary look at their watch displays, I saw a cabinet marked “Clearance”, in which I noticed a Lorus automatic watch, with a silvery white textured dial and hands in a style reminiscent of a grandfather clock. Remarkably, it was just £43.50. John Lewis is currently having its January sales, with large red signs urging shoppers to “Succumb to the sale.” This watch had a price ticket of £72.50 previously but was reduced by 40%. It had been put out just that day.

It was not the military style field watch that I had seen, but nonetheless I quite liked the whitish face, the vintage hands, and large size (42mm diameter case). There was no luminescence and there was still the issue of the day and date hassle. I asked to have a look at it.

Handling the watch, the finish and quality looked and felt impressive, with its highly polished plated steel case and a black leather strap. There was even an exhibition window in the screw-down back, showing the automatic movement and the swinging rotor, on which “TWENTY-ONE JEWELS” was stamped. For a mere £43.50, it was one sixth of the price of the nearest Seiko automatic, and I felt it was a fun purchase and in need of a home.

Even the packaging was quite decent and appropriate: a small cardboard lidded box and the watch strapped around a soft brown pillow. The instructions and two year guarantee documents were below.

I was pleasantly surprised that the initial setting up of the day and date was no trouble at all and took only a minute: pull out the crown to the first click, turn it one way to advance the date and the other way to advance the day. Set them to the previous day, then pull out the crown to the second click, and advance the hour and minute hands to the correct time, (remembering to go past 12 o’clock twice if it is after mid-day).

However, what was not so easy was then getting the watch to start. Having no power at all, it was necessary to wind it sufficiently to start working before putting it on and allowing the automatic movement to keep the watch wound through the movement of the wrist. I tried to wind the watch manually but felt no resistance from the crown. Peering in at the movement, I began to fear that the mainspring was broken. I had wound the crown perhaps a hundred times and the second hand had not budged.

The instruction leaflet did not mention winding the watch with the crown but suggested that the watch be swung back and forth, horizontally, for 30 seconds. In practice, it needed considerably longer than 30 seconds but did start eventually and the second hand came to life, in the joyous way that mechanical watches do.

I looked online for some reviews of the watch. I found one at benswatchclub.com, for a similar model where it was stated that the movement appeared to be the same as that used in the Seiko 5 models. He states “To my understanding, the mechanism labelled as a ‘Y676C’ is a rebadged Seiko 7S26C, identical to that in most last-gen Seiko 5 watches” and “If you’re familiar with the 7S26, you’ll know that this movement is durable but rudimentary, with no hacking or hand-winding capabilities. You’ll have to rotate the watch to get it going manually.”

This was a revelation. The good news was that my mainspring was not broken. But here was the second big gap in my knowledge: I am embarrassed to say that I did not know that some automatic watches could not be wound by hand.

I also learned that “hacking” refers to the ability to stop the second hand by pulling out the winding crown, necessary for military watches in order that they could be synchronised. Mine did not have that facility either.

Whilst I admired the intricate design and finish of the watch and obviously its price, (the leather strap alone must be worth half of this), I was put off by the lack of a manual winding option.

I am sad to say that ultimately the watch and I agreed that each of us was not what the other wanted. I wanted an automatic, but one which I could wind up quickly for occasional use. I like to wear a different watch at weekends from the one I wear on weekdays.

The watch, on the other hand, wanted an owner for whom it was his only watch, perhaps his first ever grown-up watch, and to be worn every day so that the absence of a manual wind option was immaterial. It did not want an owner who would compare it unfavourably and unreasonably with other, vastly more costly timepieces but would enjoy it for its own merits, not only for its cheapness.

And so, with some regret, I returned the watch to John Lewis for a refund early the next day, still a little sad to see it go but having learnt from the experience. This turned out to be a “catch and release” or as my late father used to say “easy come, easy go.”