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My wristwatch decided to give its soul back to its Swiss creator while switching back from British Summer Time. Time-travelling must have taken its toll on it (or it could just be the battery that chose a very topical moment to go on strike uttering "hey mate, I've already gone from 1am to 2am once, what's this all about?") and I haven't worn one for three days now.

I can't remember not having had a watch on my wrist ever and, although I am not the typical Italian owning an average of half a dozen different Swatch watches to match their outfits, I thought it was something I could not do without. Well, of course I can, surrounded as I am with devices that keep hammering into me what time it is, all the time, whether you want to know or not.

I was quite bemused then yesterday, as I was making smalltalk with an employee of the company I had an appointment with to hand my translations in (and yes, even watchless I got there on time). While the IT Tech Guy was connecting my laptop to their network, I asked him how long he'd been working there and he instinctively looked at his watch, which made me ask him whether he was counting the exact minutes he'd spent at his desk.

What is surprising is that every now and then I keep lifting my forearm and shake my wrist, as if my watch was still there, to put it back up into place (I like wearing it very loose), just like people who get a short haircut and keep pushing a non-existent fringe back from their eyes or behind their ears,

Not the manliest of gestures, I'll admit.