The Dead Wogmaster

 

The past few weeks have been sheer madness. Andrew and I are drowning in repairs – the bench is overflowing. I can’t quite put my finger on why. Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s because watchmakers have stopped taking apprentices, or because Omega now quotes a 12-month turnaround time. Who knows. What I do know is that more often than not, we’re forced to turn away jobs that simply don’t make sense – either unprofitable, or with parts that no longer exist. And then, amongst the mountain of Omega and Rolex, a familiar face arrived from Queensland: a Seiko Wogmaster. Yes, the very one we sold not that long ago. I knew it was coming, because I’d taken the customer’s call. New watches don’t just die without a reason. I was expecting something small – a loose screw, maybe a jammed rotor. On the outside, the watch looked perfect. No scratches, no dents, nothing. But the moment I removed the case back, the story was written in plain sight: the hairspring was a mess, hopelessly tangled. It only happens when a watch takes a fall, or suffers a heavy knock – golf swings are notorious. But here’s the part that moved me: once the hairspring was set right, this humble Seiko 5 came back to life with an astonishing amplitude, running at +2 seconds a day. Better than most Swiss luxury watches I see on this very bench. That’s not luck. That’s Seiko. I love Seiko. Especially the ones we’ve sold. They have soul. They remind me why I became a watchmaker in the first place. And no, I won’t tell the customer that his watch was dropped. He doesn’t need to carry that guilt. This repair is on me, free of charge – return postage included. Why? Because when I hold a Seiko in my hands, I feel my grandfather and my father standing beside me. Both of them spent their lives repairing Seikos. When I breathe life back into one, I feel them with me. A Wogmaster on my bench is not just a repair – it’s a family reunion. That feeling never comes with any other brand. Only Seiko. Only the Wogmaster.