Cuckoo clocks are cool. That's what Lord Bassington-Bassington has always felt, anyway. And because of that, he is extremely enthusiastic about the current cuckoo clock revival.
Young artist Stefan Strumbel leads the field when it comes to the fusion of Germanic folk art (grown-up talk for "kitsch") and high art (grown-up talk for "pretentious"), and while he produces some stunning works, one is usure about whether one would want them on one's wall. Not to mention whether one could ever afford them...
So for something that's more moderate both in price and execution, one can do worse than turn to Italian company Diamantini & Domeniconi, who produce cuckoos where Germanic tradition meets Italian design in a mix that is stunningly European.
These clocks are available in two versions, the most elaborate (and thus most tempting) version having a working cuckoo. In order to not deprive the owner of sleep, it has a light sensor to make the bird inside take the night along with the owners, but this raised a number of questions. How would a light sensor handle the Norwegian seasons? Wouldn't the cocky cuckoo just refuse to accept that it's nighttime during the white nights of July, for instance? The clinching argument, though, was presented by Lady Mju. Lady Mju. being a feline sort of type, pointed out that she wouldn't get much done if she had to sit under the clock all day stalking the birdie inside. So the choice was clear: Some things had to be sacrificed.
Lord Bassington-Bassington thinks the clock works quite well on the wall here at Bassington Manor. (The white roses are obviously a small tribute to a band His Lordship quite enjoys).
So what else can one do than join those founders of neofolk, Death in June, in singing "Ku ku cuckoo, baby!"
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