We know the exact time these watches and timepieces stopped ticking, but when? Where was Uri Geller when we needed him? Perhaps he was enjoying a bowl of salmorejo with a bent spoon in a tapas bar around the corner.
While we were looking for a certain tapas bar in Málaga, we stepped back in time into a second hand shop full of crusty oil paintings, spooky, eyeless dolls and photographs of long-dead Spanish folk. Perhaps they once visited the very same bars in this neighbourhood.
Everything in this place was brown, like a nicotine-stained London pub of the 70s. The owner, and then his son, tried to flog us three tiny paintings for €1300 – we thought they were worth about €30, so someone had got things pretty wrong.
The history of these watches is probably lost forever – but what stories they could tell.
© con jamón spain