My very nice digital watch needs a new wristband so I'm not carrying it. Instead, when I really need the time, I carefully pull my cellphone out of its beltcase, open it up and scrutinize its screen. I know that of all the objects I carry around (or see on a wall), none is likely to be as time-accurate as my cellphone. Although it IS a bit of a nuiscance to read.
But today as I pulled out my cellphone to check the time, I suddenly felt allied to stuffy rich middle-aged men of the nineteenth century, who consulted the time by reaching down into the special watch pocket of their suit and withdrawing their fancy windup watches. The watch was worn close to the body so that the oil keeping it lubricated would be warm and flowing; and those watch-checkers had to make a physical motion similar to mine to check my phone. The more things change ...
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