Yesterday I found an old horseshoe, it is bent, buckled and rusty, old. It was in one of the local barley fields. Treasure.Our old village blacksmith died a few years ago, his family had been wheelwrights and blacksmiths for many generations, unfortunately he had no one to pass the business on to.
Everything was auctioned.
This is how the place used to look, back in the days when he was still able to make gates, weather vanes, etc.
This is the day before the sale, preview day.
People came from all over, including me.
I admit I went out of curiosity, I wanted to see inside a forge.
It was a sad occasion, I didn't stay long.
Everything came with a fair bit of rust and the patina of past usefulness.
There were racks and stacks of this and that. No doubt much of it will have gone for scrap.
Miss Read told us a little anecdote about the blacksmith - and how, during the war they had a contract to supply the Army with one thousand 'donkey-shoes'. They all had to be exactly the same size, any that were even marginally different were not accepted.
Who'd have thought that every donkey came with standard-sized hooves!!!!!
Madness.
They fulfilled their contract, but only once.
It was far more trouble than it was worth.
The blacksmith's house has been bought and is in the process of being renovated.
The sheds remain, for the time being.
They tilt a little more under the weight of ivy.
No doubt one of these days they will be removed and things will move on.
As they do.
I shall keep this rusty, bent, old horseshoe - cart horse sized (non-standard) - treasure it as a keepsake of the old village blacksmith, for almost certainly it would have been made just along the road, by Eric - or his father, possibly his grandfather, or an uncle...
Have a lovely weekend.
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