Written by the team behind Puzzlify. Puzzlify is our product, so weigh what follows with that in mind. We've tried to make this useful even if you never use it. We're not affiliated with any church, parish, diocese, town or parish council, clock maker, turret clock restorer, bell ringing society, heritage body, civic society, heritage funder, sponsor, school or community organisation. Nothing here is legal, building conservation, structural, work at height, bells, machinery, ladders, lone working, bats and wildlife, health and safety, first aid, safeguarding, photography permission, employment or data protection advice; check your own parish's, council's and clock adviser's guidance on gifts, photos, towers, bells, the clock, children and people's details.
It's half past eight on a Saturday morning at the end of October, and a retired electrician called Geoff is climbing the narrow stone stairs of a church tower in a market town. He carries a torch, a small oil can, a rag and a notebook, and he has a key on a string round his neck. Halfway up, he unlocks a low wooden door and steps into the clock room: a square, dusty, whitewashed space with one small window, and in the middle of it, on a cast-iron frame bolted to a timber beam, the clock.
It was made in 1874 by a clockmaker in a city sixty miles away, whose name is cast into a brass plate on the frame. It has three trains of wheels: one to keep the time, one to strike the hours on the tenor bell above, and one to chime the quarters. Long rods run from the movement up through the ceiling to the four dials on the outside of the tower, and a pendulum as long as a man swings slowly through a slot in the floor. Heavy iron weights hang on steel cables down the inside of the tower, and every week they drop, very slowly, a few feet at a time, as the clock runs down.
Geoff fits the crank handle onto the first winding square and starts to turn. It takes about a hundred and fifty turns to wind the going train and several hundred more for each of the striking trains, and by the time he's finished, his arms ache and he's warm despite the cold. He checks the time against his phone, nudges the clock a few seconds with the setting dial, oils the pivots he's been shown how to oil, writes the date, the time and "+4 sec" in the notebook, and locks the door behind him.
Geoff has been one of the clock winders for fourteen years. There are four of them on the rota now: Geoff; a retired farmer called Bill, who has wound it on and off since 1979; a young IT technician called Priya, who learned from Bill two years ago and now keeps the winding log on a spreadsheet; and Margaret, the churchwarden, who doesn't do the winding any more but holds the keys, keeps the list and knows who to call when the clock stops. Before them, the clock was wound by Bill's uncle, and before him by a sexton whose name is pencilled on the clock room wall with the date 1911.
This weekend is a big one. The clocks go back on Sunday morning in the UK, Ireland and much of Europe, and someone will have to climb the tower and deal with the hour. On a striking clock, you can't just wind the hands back; so on Saturday night, Geoff will stop the pendulum at the right moment and start it again an hour later, or come up on Sunday and do it then. Nobody in the town will notice. The clock will simply be right, as it always is.
If you know someone like Geoff, or Bill, or Priya with her spreadsheet, this is for you. It's about thanking the people who look after a church, town hall, market hall, school or village clock: the winders, the clock keepers, the people who oil and adjust it, the restoration volunteers, the history team, the churchwardens and councillors who hold the keys, and the people who started the appeal to bring an old clock back to life. It's about words first, a few practical rules, photos that work and a simple idea we make: a private digital jigsaw of a photo they love, with your note appearing when the last piece clicks in.
Who we mean
Most church and public clocks in towns and villages were installed in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, often paid for by public subscription or left in a will. Many are mechanical turret clocks that need winding by hand every week, or every day for the oldest. Some have been fitted with automatic winding, but plenty still depend on a small team of local people climbing the stairs. When we say "clock winders", we mean people like:
- the winders on the weekly rota, who climb the tower in all weathers and turn the handle;
- the clock keeper or custodian, who knows the clock best, checks it, keeps it to time and deals with the clocks going back and forward;
- the people who oil, clean and make small adjustments, trained by a clock adviser or a specialist restorer;
- the volunteers who helped with a restoration, cleaning the frame, painting the dials or carrying parts down the tower, alongside the specialist firm doing the real work;
- the history volunteers who research the maker, the date, the subscription list and the people who wound it before;
- the churchwardens, the parish clerk and the town or parish councillors who are responsible for the clock, hold the keys and pay the bills;
- the tower guides who show the clock to visitors on heritage open days;
- the founders of the appeal that restored the clock after years of silence.
Some clocks have one winder who has done it for forty years. Others have a rota of a dozen. Everything here works whatever the size.
Words first
The most important part of any thank-you is what you say. Clock winders are almost invisible: when they do their job well, nobody notices at all, and they only hear about the clock when it stops or strikes thirteen. So be specific:
- name the job: "every Saturday since 2012", "the four hundred turns of the strike train", "the night you stopped the pendulum for an hour", "the log you've kept for ten years";
- name a moment: the day the clock struck again after the restoration, the winter the snow came in through the louvres, the morning your daughter got married and the clock struck the hour just as she walked out of the church;
- name what it meant: hearing the hour from your garden, the sound that told you it was time to come home for tea, a town that runs on time because of one person with a crank handle;
- name the years: "fourteen years and seven hundred climbs" means more than "thank you for all you do".
If you're thanking a whole team, try to name the people who never get named. The churchwarden who holds the keys and arranges the insurance, the person who keeps the rota, the councillor who fought to keep the clock mechanical, the one who answers the phone when someone rings to say the clock is five minutes slow. They keep a clock going as much as the winders do.
A sentence like "the town wouldn't sound the same without you" can feel like a big claim, but people say it about clock winders all the time. If it's true, say it.
Who it suits
A photo jigsaw with a note works best for someone who:
- enjoys a small puzzle on a phone or tablet, or has grandchildren who'll help;
- has a strong feeling for a particular tower, a clock face, a market square or a sound;
- loves mechanisms, gears and the way things fit together;
- is stepping down from the winding rota or celebrating a long-service milestone;
- has moved away and misses the place and the people;
- has a partner or family who'd like to say thank you for all those early mornings.
It's less suitable for someone who doesn't use a phone or a computer at all, in which case a printed card or a framed photo may be better, or someone who would feel uncomfortable being singled out. For them, a quiet thank-you at the foot of the tower may be best.
Gifts, towers and good manners
A few practical rules before you send anything:
- Safety first. Towers are dangerous places: steep stairs, ladders, trapdoors, low beams, open shafts where the weights run and floors that may not be sound. Never go up a tower without the person responsible for it, and never ask a winder to take you up "just for a photo". Leave access to them and the parish or council.
- Bells. Many clock rooms are below a bell chamber. Never go into a bell chamber unless the bells are known to be safe and the person in charge takes you, and never touch a bell, a rope, a hammer or a lever. If there's a ringing band too, talk to them first.
- The clock belongs to someone. Church clocks usually belong to the parish, and some town clocks belong to the council. Only trained people should adjust or repair them. Don't touch the movement, the weights, the pendulum or the dial work, even to help, unless you've been shown how and asked to.
- Weights and machinery. Clock weights can be very heavy and hang on cables in open shafts. Never stand under a weight, never reach into a moving train of wheels, and keep fingers and loose clothing away from the fly and the striking work.
- Wildlife. Church towers are often home to bats, which are protected in many countries, and to pigeons, jackdaws and sometimes owls or kestrels. Don't disturb roosts or nests, and follow the parish's guidance, especially in summer.
- Paid specialists. Turret clock restorers, clock advisers and maintenance firms are professionals and are paid by the parish or council. Their employers may have rules about gifts. Keep anything for them small and personal.
- The parish's money is the parish's. If you'd like to support the clock, give to the church, the clock fund or the council appeal directly. Don't use parish or council funds for a personal thank-you to a single volunteer unless the people responsible agree. A personal gift from you is a different thing, and a modest one is fine.
- Children. If young people are learning to wind the clock, they should always be with a responsible adult and covered by the parish's safeguarding policy. Don't photograph them or single them out publicly without their parents' and the parish's agreement.
- Keys, codes and people's details. Keep tower keys, key safes, door codes, alarm panels, the winding rota, the phone list and anyone's details out of everything you photograph or send.
When to send it
Good moments to thank a clock winder:
- this weekend, when the clocks go back and someone has to deal with the hour, or in spring, when they go forward;
- when a restoration is finished and the clock strikes again for the first time;
- on the anniversary of the clock, often marked on the maker's plate or in the parish records;
- when a winder steps down from the rota after many years;
- at the parish meeting or the town council's annual meeting, when volunteers are thanked;
- after a hard winter, when the clock froze, the snow came in or the stairs were icy;
- at New Year, when people listen for the clock to strike midnight;
- on Remembrance Sunday, if the clock is silenced or the hour is marked;
- in memory of a winder who has died, with their family's agreement.
There's no wrong time to say thank you, but the last weekend of October is a good one. The clocks go back on Sunday 25 October in the UK, Ireland and the EU, and on Sunday 1 November in the US and Canada, and somewhere above your town, someone is already planning their climb.
Why a jigsaw can fit
A turret clock is made of pieces: hundreds of wheels, pinions, arbors, levers, cams and pins, each one cut to fit the others, all moving together to keep a town on time. The winding team is pieces too: the winders, the keeper, the churchwarden, the restorer, the historian, the person who keeps the log. A jigsaw of the clock face or the movement, with a note that appears when the last piece goes in, echoes that. It's also something to do on a dark winter evening, when the clocks have gone back and the evenings feel very long.
It's private, it's small, and it doesn't add to the clutter in someone's house. And unlike a framed print, it can be sent from anywhere: from the family who moved away, from the grandchild at university, from the former winder who now lives in another country.
For the winders
The winders are the heart of it. They climb the tower every week, in the dark in winter and the heat in summer, and turn the handle until their arms ache. They've wound it through holidays, illness and snow, and arranged cover when they couldn't. A note to a winder might mention the number of years, the turns, the winter mornings or the day they never missed. A photo of the clock face against a blue sky, taken from the street, makes a lovely puzzle.
For the clock keeper
The clock keeper knows the clock's moods: when it runs fast in the heat, why the quarter chime sticks in the damp, how many seconds to add after a cold night. They keep the log, deal with the change of hour, call the restorer when something's wrong and teach the new winders. A note might mention the log, the patience, or the night they stopped the pendulum for an hour. A photo of the movement, with the maker's plate and the brass wheels, taken with permission, suits them.
For the people who oil and adjust it
Some volunteers are trained by a clock adviser or restorer to do the small regular jobs: oiling the pivots they've been shown, wiping away dust, adjusting the regulation and checking the hammers. Serious repairs go to the specialists. A note might mention the care, the oil can, the notebook or the way the clock has kept better time since they took it on. A photo of the pendulum, or the crank handle hanging on its hook, suits them.
For the restoration volunteers
When an old clock is restored, the specialist firm does the real work, but local volunteers often help: carrying parts down the tower, cleaning decades of dust and pigeon mess, raising money, painting the dials or regilding the numerals under supervision. A note might mention the day the clock came back, the first strike after years of silence or the fundraising coffee mornings. A then-and-now pair, the silent dial and the restored dial, suits them.
For the history volunteers
The history volunteers know who made the clock, who paid for it, who wound it and what the town did on the day it was first started. They've found the subscription list in the archive, read the old vestry minutes, identified the pencil names on the clock room wall and written the leaflet for the heritage open day. A note might mention the story they uncovered or the talk you went to. A photo of the maker's plate, or an old postcard of the tower, with permission, suits them.
For the churchwardens and councillors
The people responsible for the clock hold the keys, arrange the insurance and the inspections, pay the restorer, find the winders and take the calls when it stops. They often get thanked last, if at all. A note might mention the restoration they steered through, the grant they won or the years of meetings. A photo of the tower against the sky, or the clock face above the market square on a busy morning, suits them.
For the founders of the appeal
Many clocks are going today because someone refused to let them stay silent. They started the appeal, wrote the letters, ran the first coffee morning and persuaded the parish or the council to spend the money. If the town hears the hour again because of them, say so. A photo of the clock on the day it was restarted, or the tower as it is now, suits them.
If you live with a clock winder
Partners and families give up a lot: the Saturday mornings, the holidays planned around the rota, the oily rags in the washing, the night the clocks go back and they disappear up the tower in the dark. If you live with a clock winder, a jigsaw from you can say something they might not hear from anyone else: "Thank you for keeping the whole town on time. I'm proud of you, even when you come home covered in dust." A photo of their favourite view of the clock, from the bench in the square or the end of your street, suits this.
When a long-serving winder steps down
When someone leaves the rota after many years, the parish or council often gives them a card, a framed print or sometimes a small clock of their own. A jigsaw from the team can sit alongside that. Pick a photo that sums up their years: the clock face against the sky, the crank handle, the pencil names on the wall with theirs added. Ask everyone to add a line to the note, or keep it short and let the card carry the longer messages.
In memory of a winder
Some parishes add a winder's name to the clock room wall or put a small plaque in the tower. If a winder has died, a jigsaw can be a gentle way for their family or the team to remember them, but only with the family's agreement. Choose a photo they loved, avoid anything that might upset, leave the leaderboard off, and keep the note simple: "In memory of Harold, who wound the clock every Saturday for thirty-one years."
For clock winders elsewhere
What we've written applies in many places where public clocks are still wound by hand:
- in England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland, where thousands of church, town hall, market hall and village clocks survive, many still wound by volunteers;
- in the United States, where courthouse, town hall and church clocks in small towns are often wound by volunteers or members of local historical societies;
- in Canada, where old post office, city hall and church clocks are looked after by local volunteers and heritage groups;
- in Australia and New Zealand, where town hall and post office clocks in country towns have their own keepers and restoration groups;
- across Europe, where church and town hall clocks in villages and small towns are still wound and cared for by local people.
The rules about access, gifts, photos and safety vary from place to place. Check your own parish's or council's guidance, and keep the thank-you personal and modest.
Photo ideas and consent
The best photos for a clock winder thank-you are often taken from the street or the churchyard, with permission for anything inside the tower. Some ideas:
- the clock face against a blue sky, with the gilded numerals and hands catching the sun;
- the tower and the clock face at dusk, with the dial lit, if it is;
- the clock above the market square or the high street on a quiet morning, with no people close enough to recognise;
- the movement, with its brass wheels, iron frame and maker's plate, taken with permission on an official visit;
- the pendulum and the crank handle on its hook, taken with permission;
- the pencil names and dates on the clock room wall, if the families wouldn't mind;
- an old postcard or photograph of the tower, with permission.
Things never to photograph, or to keep out of the frame:
- people in the square or the churchyard, unless they've clearly agreed;
- children and young people, without their parents' and the parish's agreement;
- winders, wardens and restorers who haven't agreed;
- keys, key safes, door codes, alarm panels and the tower door lock;
- the winding rota, the phone list and any message group with names and numbers;
- the collection plate, the donations box and the clock fund's bank details;
- bat roosts and nests, up close;
- names on memorials and gravestones in the churchyard, unless their families have agreed;
- anything that shows the inside of the tower in a way that might help someone get in.
If the photo has people in it, ask them first. A photo with no people at all, just the clock face, the tower or the movement, is often the easiest and best choice.
Getting the JPG right
Puzzlify works from a JPG. Most phone photos are already JPGs, or can be saved as one. A few practical tips:
- a clock face high on a tower against a bright sky can come out as a dark silhouette, so tap on the dial to set the exposure, then check the sky still has some colour;
- step back across the square or the churchyard so the tower stands up straight, rather than pointing up from the foot of it, which makes it lean backwards;
- zoom in on the dial from further away rather than standing right underneath it;
- inside a dim clock room, avoid the flash if you can, rest the phone on something steady and use the night mode, so the brass glows instead of glaring;
- gears, numerals, gilding, stone and ivy make wonderful puzzles, because every piece has a little detail;
- large areas of plain sky or whitewashed wall are tricky, so crop them or pick fewer pieces;
- landscape images usually make the most comfortable puzzles on a phone turned sideways;
- if your phone saves photos in another format, such as HEIC, change the camera setting to "most compatible" or export a copy as JPG;
- remove location data from the photo before you upload it. On most phones, you can switch it off in the share options or the camera settings.
Privacy and an optional PIN
The puzzle is private: it's shared as a link, not posted on a public board. You can add an optional PIN so that only someone who knows it can open the puzzle, which is useful if you're sending it to a parish email list. Even so, treat the photo as if it might be forwarded, and keep children, keys, codes, the rota and anyone's details out of it. Puzzlify doesn't use your photos to train AI or share them with third parties.
Say it's from you
Parishes and their volunteers get a lot of unexpected messages, from fake invoices to "urgent request from the vicar" scams, and older volunteers in particular are rightly wary of unexpected links. Say who it's from and what it is in the message itself: "This is a little jigsaw of the clock you've wound every Saturday for fourteen years, with a note at the end. It's from me, and it's safe to open." For someone who doesn't use email much, print the link as a QR code inside a card.
Piece counts
| Pieces | Photo idea | Best for |
|---|---|---|
| 24 | the clock face against the sky, close up | a quick solve, or a first puzzle |
| 48 | the tower and the clock from the churchyard | one clear subject, a relaxed solve |
| 80 | the clock above the market square | a busier image with lots of detail |
| 130 | the movement with its brass wheels and maker's plate | a detailed photo for a keen puzzler |
| 252 | the whole town from a hill, with the tower in the middle | a long, slow solve for a long-serving winder |
If you're not sure, 48 or 80 pieces suits most people on a phone. Plain sky and whitewashed walls get tricky at high piece counts, so start lower if the image has large areas of one colour.
How to send it
Upload the photo, pick a piece count, write your note and preview it. When you're happy, publish the link and send it by email or message, print the link or a QR code inside a card, or ask the churchwarden or the parish clerk to pass it on. Start at Puzzlify's photo puzzle maker.
If you're sending one puzzle to the whole winding team, the optional leaderboard lets everyone see who finished first, which suits people who care about time; others would rather solve it quietly. For a puzzle sent to one person, or after a bereavement, leave it off.
Note examples
- "To Geoff: fourteen years, seven hundred climbs and never more than a few seconds out. Thank you."
- "To Bill: since 1979 the town has known what time it is because of you. Thank you."
- "To Priya: thank you for learning the clock and keeping the log. Bill says you're the best pupil he's had."
- "To the winding team: thank you for every Saturday, every icy stair and every hour the clocks went back."
- "To my husband: thank you for the Saturday mornings, the oily rags and the town that runs on time."
(Change the names, and keep anything personal or identifying out of a puzzle that may be shared.)
Honest pricing
Making and previewing a puzzle is free in your browser. You only pay when you publish the link to send it: one credit is EUR 3.99, three credits are EUR 8.99, and Plus is EUR 14.99 a year for ten credits, which can make sense if you want to thank each winder on the rota separately. The person you send it to doesn't need an account or an app; they just open the link in a browser.
This is a digital jigsaw you play on a screen. It isn't a cardboard puzzle in the post, a printed product, a raffle prize or a public puzzle board, and it isn't connected to any church, parish, council, clock maker or heritage body. It's also not puzzlify.io (a chess site), Puzzlit, Puzzly or Puzzify, which are different things.
Ideas that are not a puzzle
Honestly, some of the best thank-yous for clock winders cost nothing at all:
- a handwritten card, handed over at the foot of the tower or left with the churchwarden to pass on;
- a thank-you in the parish magazine, the town newsletter or the local paper, naming the winders, the keeper and the churchwarden;
- nominating the winders for a local volunteering or civic award, if your area has one;
- giving to the clock fund, the church or the council appeal directly;
- offering to join the rota, once you've been shown how, done any training the parish needs and been covered by its insurance and safeguarding policy;
- a flask of coffee and a bacon roll waiting at the bottom of the tower on the morning the clocks go back;
- a tin of good biscuits for the vestry, which never fails.
If a photo puzzle feels right as well, choose the clock face against the sky, the tower at dusk, the clock above the square or the brass wheels of the movement, take it from the street or with permission on an official visit, keep children, keys, codes, the rota and anyone's details out of the frame, pick a piece count that suits them, and write the note in your own words. You can make a free preview here and decide later whether to send it.
Whatever you send, the most important part is the sentence that sounds like you, written to the person who climbed the dark stairs every Saturday, turned the handle until their arms ached and stopped the pendulum for an hour while everyone else slept, so that on Sunday morning, when the town wakes up an hour early or an hour late, the clock above the square strikes, and it's right.
Written by the small team behind Puzzlify (info@puzzlify.app). Not legal, building conservation, structural, work at height, bells, machinery, ladders, lone working, bats and wildlife, health and safety, first aid, safeguarding, photography permission, employment or data protection advice. Check your own parish's, council's and clock adviser's guidance on gifts, photos, towers, bells, the clock, children and people's details.