Since my first tick-a-tick-a-Timex, of which I have written before, I have always worn a wristwatch. I can’t recall a time when I didn’t and for men of my generation, the type of watch you wore said much about you. Which is why I now go for an affordable Seiko in a classic, plain style. Dull, unpretentious, reliable; after all, it has a job to do. Not for me the trendy gigantic face, nor the chronometer with too many buttons, none of which serve any useful purpose. Breitling, Rolex, Cartier et al will never adorn my wrist unless I simultaneously win the lottery and lose my marbles. Like your choice of car, your choice of watch often says less flattering things about you than you’d like and for the cost of a Navitimer I could buy a half-decent set of nondescript wheels.