- Joined
- Dec 2, 2005
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- 71,168
On the morning after my trip to Malton and York (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...Yorkshire-With-A-Knife-The-Joker-amp-The-Fool) I decided to set out on yet another search for pointy treasure, this time to the car-boot sales of Ripley and Ripon. I have written about the attractive historic village of Ripley and it's ancient northern neighbour Ripon before, so will not repeat myself. Suffice to say that the journey there, particularly on a peaceful summer Sunday morning, is both pleasant and beautiful, as indeed are Ripley and Ripon themselves.
Unlike on my last visit, the sale at Ripley is extremely busy this time, and I am happy to tip my 50p (about a dollar) into the bucket held by the polite young man on the gate. I walk rather briskly between the large circular row of stalls, buying a few old books, including one from the 19th century, but not seeing any slipjoints. Eventually I spot a chap I usually buy knives from, and we strike up conversation, but he has no knives today, having been outbid for a bundle of them at this week's auction.
I chat with another feller about some old tools he has, it's a pleasant atmosphere here, everyone is friendly and polite. I'm not too bothered the sale doesn't have much for me, it's nice just to be out in the countryside on a Sunday morning.
I walk all the way round the field to the entrance, and then decide to re-trace my steps, just in case I've missed something. It's still early yet, and the sale I'm going on to in Ripon isn't until the afternoon anyway.
Half way round, on a stall with a glass-fronted display case, in among a lot of old pocket watches, I spy a penknife. I ask the old man whose stall it is, if I may take a look, and it turns out to be a stainless advertising knife, no older than the 1980's, and identical to one I recently paid £2 for. When I enquire about a price, the man tells me that it's his own knife. I say that I don't want to take his knife, but he contrarily insists that everything is for sale. "I couldn't take less than £20 for it", the old man says to my amazement. "Normally, it'd be £5, but I like that one." What logic! I leave him with his knife, and walk on chuckling to myself.
After exiting the boot-sale, I walk into the centre of the small village of Ripley, and admire the grand house and castle walls, before my bus is due and I venture onto the great old cathedral city of Ripon, with it's vast and imposing minster and perfectly laid out market square. At this pre-noon hour, Ripon too is quiet, and I take a few photographs of the centre, before walking down the cobbled streets which lead to the impressive old cathedral.
The car-boot sale is held at Ripon race course, a couple of miles out of the centre of town, and the pleasant walk there, along the banks of the River Skell and the local canal, is most enjoyable. I stop on the way to chat to a disabled angler, fishing for trout and grayling from his wheelchair, and ear-mark a riverside pub for a pint on my way back.
When I arrive at my destination, there is still nearly 30 minutes to go before the sale starts, but people are already forming an orderly queue at the entrance. As there's nothing else to do, I join it, and am surprised when I turn round five minutes later to see just how many people are behind me, this is clearly a popular event.
When the allotted hour eventually arrives, I am astonished to see those at the front of the queue actually running for the stalls in their eagerness for a bargain! I amble in, and walk round the rows of stalls, not really seeing much of interest to me. I like the look of an old cleaver I spot, but the asking price is high, and I really have little use for it. On another, I see some old Acme whistles and buy them.
On the very last row, I spot a set of William Rodgers dessert knives, new and in their original box, and can't resist buying them. A couple of crown cork openers are also snapped up.
One late arrival is still setting up, the two fellers unpacking a large white van really taking their time. Large unsorted boxes are stacked end to end in rows, and as they are unpacked, punters start to go through them. I give them a glance, but the contents don't look too interesting. Every now and then, one or other of the blokes hands something to an older woman standing behind a row of paste tables, a china ornament or item of jewellery. I keep an eye on the tables as they seem to be the destination for the choicest items.
One of the lads carries over a large wooden canteen of table cutlery, and I take a look. The box is a bit damaged and some of the contents missing unfortunately. Among the items on the table I spot a yellow figure, and casually ask the price. "Two quid", I'm told. I hand it over and put the ivory piece into my coat pocket.
I get chatting to the woman and ask about penknives. She tells me that they don't have any. The men work as slowly as drying paint, and I wander off to look at some nearby stalls. When I return five minutes later, little else has come out of the van, but in a box on the table, together with a couple of strings of beads, I spot the familiar shape of a knife purse, and inside is an IXL ring-opener in excellent condition. It costs me another two quid.
I wander off back along the canal, and eat a lunchtime sandwich in a pleasant spot. I continue my return, walking along the opposite bank of the River Skell which is just as scenic as the other, and cross a wooden bridge for a pint at The Water Rat. I sit out in the sunshine, drinking my beer by the edge of the river, with fine views back to Ripon Cathedral. Children paddle and splash in the shallow water nearby. Only the one knife today, but I couldn't have asked for a nicer morning or more pleasant surroundings.
The Hunt Continues!
Jack
Unlike on my last visit, the sale at Ripley is extremely busy this time, and I am happy to tip my 50p (about a dollar) into the bucket held by the polite young man on the gate. I walk rather briskly between the large circular row of stalls, buying a few old books, including one from the 19th century, but not seeing any slipjoints. Eventually I spot a chap I usually buy knives from, and we strike up conversation, but he has no knives today, having been outbid for a bundle of them at this week's auction.
I chat with another feller about some old tools he has, it's a pleasant atmosphere here, everyone is friendly and polite. I'm not too bothered the sale doesn't have much for me, it's nice just to be out in the countryside on a Sunday morning.
I walk all the way round the field to the entrance, and then decide to re-trace my steps, just in case I've missed something. It's still early yet, and the sale I'm going on to in Ripon isn't until the afternoon anyway.
Half way round, on a stall with a glass-fronted display case, in among a lot of old pocket watches, I spy a penknife. I ask the old man whose stall it is, if I may take a look, and it turns out to be a stainless advertising knife, no older than the 1980's, and identical to one I recently paid £2 for. When I enquire about a price, the man tells me that it's his own knife. I say that I don't want to take his knife, but he contrarily insists that everything is for sale. "I couldn't take less than £20 for it", the old man says to my amazement. "Normally, it'd be £5, but I like that one." What logic! I leave him with his knife, and walk on chuckling to myself.
After exiting the boot-sale, I walk into the centre of the small village of Ripley, and admire the grand house and castle walls, before my bus is due and I venture onto the great old cathedral city of Ripon, with it's vast and imposing minster and perfectly laid out market square. At this pre-noon hour, Ripon too is quiet, and I take a few photographs of the centre, before walking down the cobbled streets which lead to the impressive old cathedral.
The car-boot sale is held at Ripon race course, a couple of miles out of the centre of town, and the pleasant walk there, along the banks of the River Skell and the local canal, is most enjoyable. I stop on the way to chat to a disabled angler, fishing for trout and grayling from his wheelchair, and ear-mark a riverside pub for a pint on my way back.
When I arrive at my destination, there is still nearly 30 minutes to go before the sale starts, but people are already forming an orderly queue at the entrance. As there's nothing else to do, I join it, and am surprised when I turn round five minutes later to see just how many people are behind me, this is clearly a popular event.
When the allotted hour eventually arrives, I am astonished to see those at the front of the queue actually running for the stalls in their eagerness for a bargain! I amble in, and walk round the rows of stalls, not really seeing much of interest to me. I like the look of an old cleaver I spot, but the asking price is high, and I really have little use for it. On another, I see some old Acme whistles and buy them.
On the very last row, I spot a set of William Rodgers dessert knives, new and in their original box, and can't resist buying them. A couple of crown cork openers are also snapped up.
One late arrival is still setting up, the two fellers unpacking a large white van really taking their time. Large unsorted boxes are stacked end to end in rows, and as they are unpacked, punters start to go through them. I give them a glance, but the contents don't look too interesting. Every now and then, one or other of the blokes hands something to an older woman standing behind a row of paste tables, a china ornament or item of jewellery. I keep an eye on the tables as they seem to be the destination for the choicest items.
One of the lads carries over a large wooden canteen of table cutlery, and I take a look. The box is a bit damaged and some of the contents missing unfortunately. Among the items on the table I spot a yellow figure, and casually ask the price. "Two quid", I'm told. I hand it over and put the ivory piece into my coat pocket.
I get chatting to the woman and ask about penknives. She tells me that they don't have any. The men work as slowly as drying paint, and I wander off to look at some nearby stalls. When I return five minutes later, little else has come out of the van, but in a box on the table, together with a couple of strings of beads, I spot the familiar shape of a knife purse, and inside is an IXL ring-opener in excellent condition. It costs me another two quid.
I wander off back along the canal, and eat a lunchtime sandwich in a pleasant spot. I continue my return, walking along the opposite bank of the River Skell which is just as scenic as the other, and cross a wooden bridge for a pint at The Water Rat. I sit out in the sunshine, drinking my beer by the edge of the river, with fine views back to Ripon Cathedral. Children paddle and splash in the shallow water nearby. Only the one knife today, but I couldn't have asked for a nicer morning or more pleasant surroundings.
The Hunt Continues!
Jack
the ring opener with purse is very neat.
Thanks for taking us along with you again. :thumbup: