Sunbury Clock Tower during the 1960s

In the annals of Sunbury-on-Thames, there are tales whispered of a peculiar and most persistent landmark: the Clock Tower. Now, you must understand, this wasn’t some majestic, detached monument in a town square. No, this clock tower, with its stoic face and unwavering chimes, stood smack-bang in the middle of a rather busy road intersection. It was, for all intents and purposes, a roundabout that had a severe case of vertical ambition.

In the swinging sixties, when Mini Coopers were zipping about and mopeds buzzed like angry bees, the Clock Tower was not merely a timekeeper. It was a character in its own right, a grumpy, immovable guardian of traffic. The locals, in their affectionate way, gave it a personality. It was said to have a disdain for anyone in a hurry. You could be late for a very important date, but the Clock Tower would stand there, utterly indifferent, as a slow-moving tractor hauled a load of hay around its base.

One chap, a nervous young driver with a brand new Ford Anglia, swore that the Clock Tower had a sense of humour. He was attempting to navigate the intersection, sweating profusely as a double-decker bus loomed in his rearview mirror. He was so flustered that he stalled his engine right in front of the tower. He said he heard a faint, metallic chuckle, a sort of ‘Tock-tock-tock’ that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Just then, the clock struck the hour, and its chimes seemed to echo with a certain triumphant mockery, as if to say, “And what time is it now, my boy? Time to learn how to drive a clutch, that’s what!”

Another story, a true classic of Sunbury folklore, involves a courting couple on a Sunday drive. The young man, in a bold display of recklessness, decided to take a short cut. He swerved to avoid an approaching Morris Minor, forgetting completely about the elephant in the road, which was, of course, the Clock Tower. He clipped the base with a sickening thud. Nothing was seriously damaged, but the impact caused the bell inside the clock to become dislodged. For the next week, instead of the stately ‘BONG-BONG’, the tower would chime with a rather melancholic and slightly off-key ‘Clank… clunk… plink’. The whole of Sunbury knew the lovers’ foolishness, and the young man, utterly mortified, had to face his prospective father-in-law’s knowing stare for weeks to come.

The Clock Tower, with its unyielding presence, was a daily source of both frustration and amusement. It was a silent witness to countless near-misses, stalled engines, and the occasional lost tourist who, utterly bewildered, would ask, “Is that a roundabout, or a very tall obstacle course?” It was a relic of a simpler time, a permanent fixture in a world of change, and a constant, slightly mischievous reminder that, in Sunbury-on-Thames, you had to navigate with caution, a sense of humour, and perhaps a small prayer to the great timekeeper in the middle of the road.