Roger W Smith showed us how this groundbreaking mechanism works. He also showed us some incredibly simple drawings that Dr Daniels had produced prior to making a watch. Roger explained that many of the finer details of the design were stored in George’s mind. This is one reason why Roger’s work has been so important: not only does he make exceptional watches, but he has ensured the preservation of Daniels' work, while continuing to further it—he has made improvements to Daniels' escapement to achieve even more accurate timekeeping. In turn, Roger is passing on his specialist knowledge to the dedicated team of horologists that he employs.

We moved from the working museum, housing the George Daniels collection of tools and machinery, into a room with more modern machinery. It transpired that my dad had programmed very similar machines, and in true Manx fashion he knew some of the people that worked in that department. I could tell that he had a great affinity to the modern lathe on the shop floor: he was in his element. This was probably the first time in ten years that he had seen the types of machines that he programmed for the best part of four decades. One of the programmers and machinists, who was probably about 30 years younger than my dad, remembered working with him, in his own early days in the profession. This gentleman opened an airtight container and picked a tiny component from it using a pair of tapered tweezers. He placed the component (a pinion) in the palm of my dad’s hand. It seemed to be smaller than the creases in his hand, and upon closer inspection he could just about see very fine teeth in the part: he was amazed—he was accustomed to programming and machining parts tens, hundreds, even potentially thousands of times larger than this. The machinist then showed us an animation which illustrated how the jigs for holding workpieces were made. Pieces of aluminium were machined so that the individual parts could be handled and polished without distortion or damage. We watched a 3D animation on the computer that showed the order of operations that would take place on these German-made milling machines.

We moved into the next room, and I admired the soldering bench, a pristine Myford Super 7 lathe, and a number of watchmaking lathes which were positioned by the windows. In the centre of the room there were two machines: one was a straight line engine turning machine, the other a rose engine turning machine (both formerly from George Daniels’ workshop: in his own words: 'Thus, [Professor David] Torrens's gift of redundant nineteenth-century machinery, combined with hard practice, had solved my dial-making problems.'– All in Good Time – p. 78. I had never seen anything like these machines before, and it explained how the incredibly precise guillochés patterns were produced. Roger demonstrates the rose engine turning machine in the video below: the precision of the setup before this process can be seen in four preceding videos.

  

This visit was not just of great practical interest, on account of my interest in hand engraving and trumpet making, but it also turned out to be of profound philosophical interest as well. There are some similarities between natural trumpets and watchmaking: both are, in their own separate ways, an art and a science—and a celebration of the analogue. If these instruments are looked after they will go on working almost indefinitely, as long as there is someone to blow or wind them. Also, both seem to exist despite the fact that some would regard our chosen artforms as obsolete: why make mechanical watches in the modern era, when electronic watches are so common? Well, why play the natural trumpet when more modern trumpets with valves or finger holes are ubiquitous? Playing the natural trumpet is the purest experience of trumpet playing—a magnifying glass to the player’s technique. It seems there are similarities: Roger W Smith has been quoted as saying ‘I make no apology for being a purist. Ours is the purest of the mechanical arts.' – Roger W Smith

In a nutshell, and without getting too deep and meaningful, I think there are two main reasons why we pursue what we do in our individual fields: firstly, we believe that our approach brings an extra dimension of interest to the artform, and, secondly, in the words of John F Kennedy (in reference to the Space Race of the 1960s), we choose to pursue our chosen disciplines ‘not because it’s easy, but because it’s hard; because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone’.

I cannot claim that I will ever make anything as finely crafted as a Roger W Smith watch, but I am well and truly inspired by his story, his ethos, and his achievements. He and his forebear have created a culture for making exceptional watches—objets d’art—on the Isle of Man. There’s definitely a lot to be said for being a purist, and Roger W Smith’s workshop is the perfect example—if you become an esteemed specialist, people will make a path to your door. I left the workshop with great optimism, thanks, and admiration. It was so refreshing to see this thriving craft and flourishing business, which produces quality workpieces that are built to last. He is entirely devoted to his art, to his craft, and to the achievement of perfection.

I was fascinated by this insight into the world of horology—a subject I knew nothing about just a week ago: I find myself somehow wishing I were involved. Since then, I’ve started reading George Daniels’ autobiography, and, as I write, a copy of Watchmaking—his great tome on the subject—sits on my desk, next in line. If nothing else, this book is serving as my current inspiration as I finish editing my own book, which is on the subject of the natural trumpet. Daniels’ work has furthered the field of mechanical watchmaking: he studied the great masters of the past for inspiration, and found areas for improvement and innovation. I hope my book, ‘Just’ Natural Trumpet, might initiate lasting changes in the field of natural trumpet playing by encouraging others to play the instrument with a fresh approach: studying the extant repertoire (Bach rather than Breguet), rather aptly, in chronological order.