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Round Yorkshire With A Knife: The Wizard’s Quest Part 9 - Lost in Yorkshire
Background: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-to-Jack-Black
Previous instalments -
Part 1: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-Knaresborough
Part 2: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-2
Part 3: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-3
Part 4: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-4
Part 5: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-5
Part 6: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-6
Part 7: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...kshire-With-A-Knife-The-Wizard’s-Quest-Part-7
Part 8: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...-Wizard’s-Quest-Part-8-Here-There-Be-Monsters
We all have those days where nothing seems to go right. As I awoke after a dreadful night’s sleep, in pain with a bad back, I was about to have one. I staggered into the kitchen and realised I’d forgotten to buy bread for my breakfast toast. I didn’t have time to cook something, so I just had a cup of tea while I got ready to go out on the road again.
Forgetting my flask of coffee, I headed to the weekly flea-market in Leeds, where in the past I’ve had so many good hauls (eg http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/showthread.php/1122616-This-week-s-score-(There-s-more-)-), http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/showthread.php/1099912-This-Week-s-Haul ). Misery Guts wasn’t at his stall, only his missus. There was an old Lambsfoot on the stall, but the blade was sharpened almost down to a point. I asked Mrs MG how much it was, and she said she’d have to ring Misery Guts to find out. The old bloke who she was standing next to was fingering his pocket-knife, a plastic handled CK. “You want to get yerself a proper knife,” he jested. I showed him my GEC Boy’s Knife, he was impressed. The answer came back from Misery Guts, he wanted £5 for the knife. I passed.
The Odd Couple are back from six weeks holidaying in Egypt, but they didn’t have any knives at all for me.
I had a few knives for Chris the ex-fireman, ones that I didn’t want, but which he’d get a couple of quid apiece for. He was grateful for the knives and had one for me, a big old Sodbuster, the sort of thing I can see Fes slashing through the bush with!
He told me it’d been covered in yellow paint, not the handle, the blade, someone had used it for stirring a pot of paint! He’d given it a quick clean for me, noting that there was no etch on the blade, nor tang-stamp either. I dare say it’ll sharpen up OK. Still, it’s a long way from my big Leeds Market hauls of the past, and in retrospect I should have just gone home at this point.
I had a few words with Paul and Ray on the tool-stall, and then headed for the bus-station and a return trip to Wakefield. I wanted to check out an old Sheffield table knife and fork which Meako had commented on.
Back in Wakey, I was a day early for the Wakefield Festival of Food, Drink & Rhubarb. The last bit is probably a joke, a reference to Wakefield position in the so-called ‘Rhubarb Triangle’ ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhubarb_Triangle ). Personally I hate the stuff anyway, it always reminds me of rotten English school dinners.
I re-visited the ‘antiques & collectibles’ emporium I’d been in only two days before, and had another look at the 19th Century Harrison Brothers & Howson table knife. I was certain that I’d made the right decision in passing on it the other day. I had a look around, there were a few other knives, including a Champagne Knife, but all very pricey. A couple of miniature Richards novelty penknives were being sold as fruit knives and priced at a staggering £35. I realised I had probably got the best bargain in the shop on my previous visit.
I went for an early lunch at a Thai cafe near the market. It was friendly and the food was nice, even if the portions were very small.
Since there are regular buses between Wakefield and Dewsbury, I decided to go there and visit a shop I’ve had a few nice knives from in the past. Unfortunately, I got on a bus that ‘went round the houses’ as they say here, in other words it went all over the place as it slowly wound its way towards Dewsbury, a town which makes Wakefield look positively pleasant.
After 30 minutes or so crawling round various council estates (housing projects) and small hamlets consisting of just a few houses and a pub or fish & chip shop, I saw Dewsbury off in the distance across the fields. About 15 minutes later, we began to descend the hill, passing large old stone-built mill buildings, and as the bus slowly turned round a wide bend I spotted a large antiques centre. Excitedly, I rang the bell requesting the bus-driver to stop, and shortly after I got off the bus.
I don’t know if many people here have ever seen the 1960’s classic BBC comedy series ‘Steptoe & Son’, about two constantly feuding rag and bone men. Well the place I walked into looked like their house and yard X 20, a massive building filled with all sorts of vintage collectible items, from old rocking horses to barometers, and from stuffed animal heads to WW2 gas-masks. At the end of the huge junk-stacked room sat two gentlemen eating fish and chips at a large oak desk. I said hello, and we chatted, they seemed like a nice couple of blokes. However, the place was now primarily an auction rooms rather than a shop, with weekly auctions being held at the weekend. I asked if they had any pocket-knives, and they told me there were a couple of lots, pointing them out to me.
The first lot consisted of only 3 knives; a plastic-handled sgian dubh, the sort of horrible modern folder that a $ store might throw out as being too cheap-looking, and a worn British Army clasp knife. In the second lot there were about 10 knives; two more clasp knives and a variety of penknives, about half of which were Richards knives. I asked about the second lot and was told the reserve price on them was £35, which was more than I thought they were worth.
Back outside, I figured I’d walk into the centre of Dewsbury. I turned the corner of the road into a street lined with shabby old buildings and boarded-up shops, a really grim-looking area. It slowly dawned on me that I wasn’t in Dewbury, but on the outskirts of another miserable West Yorkshire town, Batley. I had last passed through Batley thirty years ago, and there was nothing there then, so I doubted it would be any better today. I retraced my steps to the bus-stop, only to find out there was only an hourly service, and I had 40 minutes to wait until the next bus. Then it began to rain, heavily!
I stood in the doorway of an ancient old mill building weighing up my options. I was at a busy road junction, but wasn’t sure which way the bus would go, or which way it was to Dewsbury, nor did I know how far away the centre of Batley was. I fancied a coffee or a pint, but all I could see was long-empty shops and derelict buildings. I decided to walk along the road a bit, where most of the traffic was headed, and soon saw a sign for an out of town retail park, which here in England, are often quite small and tawdry. So it was with ‘The Mill’. It was somewhere you can imagine fashion goes to die, I mean I’m no hipster, but really, no wonder it had no customers. There was a cafe in there, a sad little place called something like ‘The Oasis’, but it took me so long to find the place that, even had I still wanted one, I no longer had time for a coffee. I managed to find an exit, eventually, and made my way back to the bus-stop. It stopped raining just as the bus came down the hill.
It turned out that the bus actually went into Batley, so I was at least able to see that I had missed absolutely nothing by not going there. Then it wound its way round more council estates, and clusters of houses in the middle of nowhere, until it eventually descended into the run-down rotten town that is Dewsbury (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...-A-Knife-Dewsbury-With-My-Pockets-Hanging-Out).
After alighting from the bus outside ‘Sharia Fashions’, I walked down empty rain-sodden streets, past the closed market, to the shop where I hoped I might perhaps find the reason for my being there on this wet Thursday afternoon. I turned into the narrow arcade only to find the shop closed!
On tired legs and aching feet, having no further interest in this awful place, I headed to the bus-stop opposite the ‘Vomiting Man’ statue which says so much about Dewsbury, only to find that the Leeds-bound buses no longer left from there. Having totally failed to find Dewsbury’s bus station in the past, in no small part due to the fact that all the signs purportedly pointing in its direction are wrong, I asked a resting street-sweeper for directions, and eventually found it. I embarked upon the long journey back to Leeds with a heavy heart, having once more failed in my ongoing Quest.
Half an hour later, my journey was interrupted at the White Rose shopping precinct. Bizarrely, the driver of the bus had received orders to take her vehicle to Huddersfield, and myself and the other passengers were summarily ejected. My dismay at once more having to wait at a bus-stop in the middle of nowhere was soon relieved however, when I bumped into my pal Bod, who had just finished his shift as a security guard at the White Rose. I was particularly pleased to see him as his wife recently gave birth to a son, Jack, and so we headed into Leeds to wet the baby’s head. After 6 pints and a couple of shots of rum, I felt better than I had all day.
The Hunt Continues!
Jack
Background: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-to-Jack-Black
Previous instalments -
Part 1: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-Knaresborough
Part 2: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-2
Part 3: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-3
Part 4: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-4
Part 5: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-5
Part 6: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-6
Part 7: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...kshire-With-A-Knife-The-Wizard’s-Quest-Part-7
Part 8: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...-Wizard’s-Quest-Part-8-Here-There-Be-Monsters
We all have those days where nothing seems to go right. As I awoke after a dreadful night’s sleep, in pain with a bad back, I was about to have one. I staggered into the kitchen and realised I’d forgotten to buy bread for my breakfast toast. I didn’t have time to cook something, so I just had a cup of tea while I got ready to go out on the road again.
Forgetting my flask of coffee, I headed to the weekly flea-market in Leeds, where in the past I’ve had so many good hauls (eg http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/showthread.php/1122616-This-week-s-score-(There-s-more-)-), http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/showthread.php/1099912-This-Week-s-Haul ). Misery Guts wasn’t at his stall, only his missus. There was an old Lambsfoot on the stall, but the blade was sharpened almost down to a point. I asked Mrs MG how much it was, and she said she’d have to ring Misery Guts to find out. The old bloke who she was standing next to was fingering his pocket-knife, a plastic handled CK. “You want to get yerself a proper knife,” he jested. I showed him my GEC Boy’s Knife, he was impressed. The answer came back from Misery Guts, he wanted £5 for the knife. I passed.
The Odd Couple are back from six weeks holidaying in Egypt, but they didn’t have any knives at all for me.
I had a few knives for Chris the ex-fireman, ones that I didn’t want, but which he’d get a couple of quid apiece for. He was grateful for the knives and had one for me, a big old Sodbuster, the sort of thing I can see Fes slashing through the bush with!
He told me it’d been covered in yellow paint, not the handle, the blade, someone had used it for stirring a pot of paint! He’d given it a quick clean for me, noting that there was no etch on the blade, nor tang-stamp either. I dare say it’ll sharpen up OK. Still, it’s a long way from my big Leeds Market hauls of the past, and in retrospect I should have just gone home at this point.
I had a few words with Paul and Ray on the tool-stall, and then headed for the bus-station and a return trip to Wakefield. I wanted to check out an old Sheffield table knife and fork which Meako had commented on.
Back in Wakey, I was a day early for the Wakefield Festival of Food, Drink & Rhubarb. The last bit is probably a joke, a reference to Wakefield position in the so-called ‘Rhubarb Triangle’ ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhubarb_Triangle ). Personally I hate the stuff anyway, it always reminds me of rotten English school dinners.
I re-visited the ‘antiques & collectibles’ emporium I’d been in only two days before, and had another look at the 19th Century Harrison Brothers & Howson table knife. I was certain that I’d made the right decision in passing on it the other day. I had a look around, there were a few other knives, including a Champagne Knife, but all very pricey. A couple of miniature Richards novelty penknives were being sold as fruit knives and priced at a staggering £35. I realised I had probably got the best bargain in the shop on my previous visit.
I went for an early lunch at a Thai cafe near the market. It was friendly and the food was nice, even if the portions were very small.
Since there are regular buses between Wakefield and Dewsbury, I decided to go there and visit a shop I’ve had a few nice knives from in the past. Unfortunately, I got on a bus that ‘went round the houses’ as they say here, in other words it went all over the place as it slowly wound its way towards Dewsbury, a town which makes Wakefield look positively pleasant.
After 30 minutes or so crawling round various council estates (housing projects) and small hamlets consisting of just a few houses and a pub or fish & chip shop, I saw Dewsbury off in the distance across the fields. About 15 minutes later, we began to descend the hill, passing large old stone-built mill buildings, and as the bus slowly turned round a wide bend I spotted a large antiques centre. Excitedly, I rang the bell requesting the bus-driver to stop, and shortly after I got off the bus.
I don’t know if many people here have ever seen the 1960’s classic BBC comedy series ‘Steptoe & Son’, about two constantly feuding rag and bone men. Well the place I walked into looked like their house and yard X 20, a massive building filled with all sorts of vintage collectible items, from old rocking horses to barometers, and from stuffed animal heads to WW2 gas-masks. At the end of the huge junk-stacked room sat two gentlemen eating fish and chips at a large oak desk. I said hello, and we chatted, they seemed like a nice couple of blokes. However, the place was now primarily an auction rooms rather than a shop, with weekly auctions being held at the weekend. I asked if they had any pocket-knives, and they told me there were a couple of lots, pointing them out to me.
The first lot consisted of only 3 knives; a plastic-handled sgian dubh, the sort of horrible modern folder that a $ store might throw out as being too cheap-looking, and a worn British Army clasp knife. In the second lot there were about 10 knives; two more clasp knives and a variety of penknives, about half of which were Richards knives. I asked about the second lot and was told the reserve price on them was £35, which was more than I thought they were worth.
Back outside, I figured I’d walk into the centre of Dewsbury. I turned the corner of the road into a street lined with shabby old buildings and boarded-up shops, a really grim-looking area. It slowly dawned on me that I wasn’t in Dewbury, but on the outskirts of another miserable West Yorkshire town, Batley. I had last passed through Batley thirty years ago, and there was nothing there then, so I doubted it would be any better today. I retraced my steps to the bus-stop, only to find out there was only an hourly service, and I had 40 minutes to wait until the next bus. Then it began to rain, heavily!
I stood in the doorway of an ancient old mill building weighing up my options. I was at a busy road junction, but wasn’t sure which way the bus would go, or which way it was to Dewsbury, nor did I know how far away the centre of Batley was. I fancied a coffee or a pint, but all I could see was long-empty shops and derelict buildings. I decided to walk along the road a bit, where most of the traffic was headed, and soon saw a sign for an out of town retail park, which here in England, are often quite small and tawdry. So it was with ‘The Mill’. It was somewhere you can imagine fashion goes to die, I mean I’m no hipster, but really, no wonder it had no customers. There was a cafe in there, a sad little place called something like ‘The Oasis’, but it took me so long to find the place that, even had I still wanted one, I no longer had time for a coffee. I managed to find an exit, eventually, and made my way back to the bus-stop. It stopped raining just as the bus came down the hill.
It turned out that the bus actually went into Batley, so I was at least able to see that I had missed absolutely nothing by not going there. Then it wound its way round more council estates, and clusters of houses in the middle of nowhere, until it eventually descended into the run-down rotten town that is Dewsbury (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...-A-Knife-Dewsbury-With-My-Pockets-Hanging-Out).
After alighting from the bus outside ‘Sharia Fashions’, I walked down empty rain-sodden streets, past the closed market, to the shop where I hoped I might perhaps find the reason for my being there on this wet Thursday afternoon. I turned into the narrow arcade only to find the shop closed!
On tired legs and aching feet, having no further interest in this awful place, I headed to the bus-stop opposite the ‘Vomiting Man’ statue which says so much about Dewsbury, only to find that the Leeds-bound buses no longer left from there. Having totally failed to find Dewsbury’s bus station in the past, in no small part due to the fact that all the signs purportedly pointing in its direction are wrong, I asked a resting street-sweeper for directions, and eventually found it. I embarked upon the long journey back to Leeds with a heavy heart, having once more failed in my ongoing Quest.
Half an hour later, my journey was interrupted at the White Rose shopping precinct. Bizarrely, the driver of the bus had received orders to take her vehicle to Huddersfield, and myself and the other passengers were summarily ejected. My dismay at once more having to wait at a bus-stop in the middle of nowhere was soon relieved however, when I bumped into my pal Bod, who had just finished his shift as a security guard at the White Rose. I was particularly pleased to see him as his wife recently gave birth to a son, Jack, and so we headed into Leeds to wet the baby’s head. After 6 pints and a couple of shots of rum, I felt better than I had all day.
The Hunt Continues!
Jack
