At the age of 19 I had the opportunity to study watchmaking at WOSTEP (Watchmakers of Switzerland Training and Educational Program) in Neuchâtel, Switzerland,. My motivation to extend my watchmaking training in Switzerland was fueled partly by an enthusiasm to further myself in horology and partly by the desire to meet as many European girls as possible. The latter aim was aided by the placement of myself and my 3 male Anglo colleagues in the only remaining section of a hostel which just happened to be directly connected to the girls dormitory. (Proof enough to me at that time that higher powers truly exists.)
In my subsequent maturity, the majority of cash I had accumulated in the United Kingdom to buy tools was gradually spent on more pressing purchases, such as beer. As I exhausted my tool funds, I increased proportionately the number of hours during the evenings and weekends spent working on the restoration projects which complemented the course work. It was during these hours that, I became engrossed in restoration.
Many of the watches being repaired by the students had been so badly abused and of so little financial value that they should have by all regards be declared officially dead. However, at the mercy of the students and through the guidance of the professor, these watches were brought back to life.
The quicker you were and the faster you progressed through the course, the more complicated and involved the repairs became. The repairs which took initially the most time and mustered the least enthusiasm from my fellow students were usually wristwatches of low quality from the early part of the 20th century which had been worn away and which were not particularly well-made or well-designed in the first place. Repairing these required using virtually every technique we were currently learning, including making new balance staffs, balance springs, re-jeweling entire trains, and rebushing or rebuilding winding mechanisms.
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