My Victorian pendulum clock has started working spontaneously, after being silent and unwound for years. I did not touch it, I did not wind it. It has commenced keeping perfect time also. It is one of those with carved wood, and cherubs and all sorts of doodly parts. It always sat on my mom's mantel. It was the least-best clock. (She had some early Seth Thomas ones that went with our house.) But the cherubs appealed to me as a kid, so this was always to be my my clock. If you could see my apartment, you would see why it looks kind of funny.
So. Bong! Bong! I have moved it to the hall. Hazel is distressed.