One is the long case clock I think of as Granny Botesdale- because Botesdale ( a village in Essex) is where she was made. The other is a bracket clock- made of brass- which would be worth a mint if it was what it seems to be- ie 17th century German- only it isn't because it's only a Victorian copy.
Granny Botesdale keeps reasonably good time, the bracket clock loses outrageously. But keeping time isn't the point of them- not really. They are friendly presences, beating out a rhythm against which life works its improvisations. If we need to know the exact time of day there's the very cheap radio controlled wall clock in the kitchen which achieves an accuracy the makers of mechanical timepieces could only dream about. But who needs to know the exact time? And what is the "exact time" anyway? Just a fiction imposed upon a fiction. Time as experienced is stretchy stuff- sometimes dragging, sometimes galloping- and in the last analysis known to be an illusion.