WIS stands for Watch Idiot Savant

For the record, my new hobby is watches. I suspect I won't be changing hobbies for some time.

The moment I learnt that I'd landed the MAS job, one of my earliest inclinations was to get myself a good timepiece. I'm conservative that way - I buy into the notion that a man is defined by the watch on his wrist, just as much as he is by the way he dresses (I also happen to think that pocket squares should be a necessity on suits, but apparently this isn't standard practice in Singapore). And when it came to watches, I wasn't clear what I wanted but I was pretty damn sure what I didn't want, and that was basically anything brand new.

And so it was that a month into work, I went looking around for a used timepiece and picked up my virgin daily beater - a vintage racing-dial Omega Dynamic (1st generation piece so circa 1972 if I've got my info right). The dial was pitted from corrosion; the case was scratched and worn; but the watch had character, and so I bought it and promptly wore it for several weeks... Right until I discovered, stashed away in a drawer of miscellaneous knick-knacks, my dad's old Seiko. The watch he wore during his studying days and later, while he was dating my mom.

That feeling, that experience of discovering something of such significant sentimental value, cannot be described in words. It was euphoric.

I cycled my usage of the Seiko along with my Omega, right till the Seiko died. Knowing my dad, he'd probably never serviced the watch in its entire lifespan (he's lazy that way). I spent fifty bucks bringing it to some watch-tinkerer in Chinatown. Over our Chinese New Year reunion dinner, my folks promptly jawed me when they heard I'd spent more money servicing the watch than what it was probably worth. "It's pa-pa's old watch leh!" I exclaimed. They laughed; we carried on eating.

Fast forward. Now that the Seiko's back, I hardly wear the Dynamic these days. The Seiko... There's something about it, something that I can't quite put my finger on. Something alluring, something haunting and poignant about it - the essence of years long past, captured in its cogs and speaking to its wearer of a life more carefree and less complex than modern-day reality. Something like that. I sometimes find myself gazing fondly at my dad's Seiko whilst on the train home - reminiscing that point in time where I rescued it from certain death in a box of random garbage; reliving the amazement when I rattled the case and the automatic movement chugged back to life.

For some people, planning ahead means making sure that their children are materially well provided for. I'm not saying that isn't wise, but I try not to overlook the little things - like having something of mine, or of a time before mine, passed on to Cheok junior. It'll probably be a watch.

I went to the same shop today, and I'm glad I did. They didn't have what I wanted, but I got the chance to try something else. And the moment I laid it across my left wrist, I knew I had to have it. It was a perfect fit, probably better than the watch I had been looking for. And more importantly, I felt that same feeling - that connection to a past of simpler, better days. Instinctively, images flashed through my mind: of yellowed photographs depicting people with retro hair, grinning from the windows of an old Datsun; of bulkily-clad astronauts, on the moon, on the 12-inch tellie; of bottled Fanta soda, orange and grape.

I'll probably sell off the Dynamic. Will post pictures of the Omega Flightmaster, once its in. Probably mid-July, I hope!