I remember as a child I turned the light on for my father -- I had to use a stick to reach the switch, I was so small. I must have been holding this iron for my father in the yard, and he struck before I removed my hand from the place, and he hit my thumb with the sledgehammer, and all that was troubling me was that I might curse – I remember the trouble he went to stop me cursing at the time.
You can imagine there were a lot of carts at the time, and those wheels had metal bands, so blacksmiths were kept in business until a few decades ago.
Every anvil must have its own musical tone when struck, and you could tell at a distance whose it was. I remember this anvil, and it was different than any before or since.
-- Remembrances of a blacksmithing apprentice on Radio Telefis Eireann, June 2013.
2 comments:
I once came across a travel writer's account of an Irish smithy that was still in the family of a smith who had deserted from Mountjoy's army in Elizabethan times - and it still had the anvil he took with him, smaller and flatter than we are accustomed to.
P.M.,
That's fantastic; no reason it couldn't have lasted that long.
When I did a blacksmithing course, our forge was much smaller than the ones shown in pictures; they just don't have to be that large. I also realised that the dramatic swinging of large hammers in movies was for dramatic effect, looking much more manly than frantic tapping. :-)
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