In the ‘50s, what was the most coveted gift any family member travelling abroad brought back? A Swiss watch, of course. Sturdy, solid, time-keepers to the family, we religiously wound them up every night and proudly wore them all day long. Any one of that generation today would have at least a couple of these antiquated pieces lying in the deep recesses of their almirahs, the fancier, more ornate, automatic versions having long since replaced them for everyday wear.

On a recent package tour of Switzerland with old friends, a friend of mine had the audacious idea of carrying a couple of these anachronistic watches with her to try and hawk back to the Swiss. After a brief conversation with her before we left, I was persuaded to do likewise. The watches had no value in India, even to get them working involved huge costs.

In every Swiss town we visited, the gothic edifices that housed the major watch companies — the biggest names in the business — loomed large and formidable. I shrank from the task before me and my friend had to go about it alone while we stood at a distance and watched. Her first attempt was in Berne, the austere watch-seller heard her out, took stock of the watches and advised her to try in Geneva.

In Geneva, the moment the coach stopped near the lake with the motif floral clock, my friend made a beeline for the watch shop across the road. Pulling out her treasures, she turned her charm on the archetypal, stocky, white-haired, beady eyed, ‘time man’. He seemed interested. Emboldened, I entered the fray with my two pieces. He caressed the watches, looked up his catalogues, made a phone call and then said in halting English that we could choose from the watches on display and he would see what he could do. Ultimately we actually exchanged our outmoded specimens for no fancy brand, but very contemporary watches!

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