Vagueness and the Aftermath - A sporadic diary

[pokerfan]

Were you ever involved in any bare knuckle bouts for cash ? Or watched/wagered any ?

No. Bare knuckle fights were, and are, frequent, but almost always for pride, not cash.

I've often been present, but thankfully, seldom involved.

LOL I want to know about when you were involved if that isn't too nosey

Suppose its unavoidable in certain instances.

[RED-DOG]

Were you ever involved in any bare knuckle bouts for cash ? Or watched/wagered any ?

No. Bare knuckle fights were, and are, frequent, but almost always for pride, not cash.

I've often been present, but thankfully, seldom involved.

LOL I want to know about when you were involved if that isn't too nosey

'Theres nothing to tell. Just the odd minor bruise picked up while barging through the crowds, trying to put a safe distance between me and the real action.

[pokefast]

Do you still trade Red?

Or do you just stick to poker these days?

[RED-DOG]

Do you still trade Red?

Or do you just stick to poker these days?

Just poker since 06, but that may have to change soon. I've been really struggling this last few months.

Oh I've been here before during my poker "career" but just as I get to the point where my bankroll is really starting to squeak, it turns around and I'm off again. 

I don't want to go back to work, but c'est la vie, I always knew I would probably have to one day. I'm surprised I got away with it for so long.

[typhoon13]

Hope it turns around for you Tom, i know the feeling well!!!

[TheChipPrince]

Red, strangest task/job you enjoy?

Most normal everyday job/task you dispise?

[RED-DOG]

Red, strangest task/job you enjoy?

Most normal everyday job/task you dispise?

Do you mean work or everyday chores?

[TheChipPrince]

Red, strangest task/job you enjoy?

Most normal everyday job/task you dispise?

Do you mean work or everyday chores?

Lets go for work, what would you most pull a face at/be inwardly excited if you turned up at a new job?

[RED-DOG]

Red, strangest task/job you enjoy?

Most normal everyday job/task you dispise?

Do you mean work or everyday chores?

Lets go for work, what would you most pull a face at/be inwardly excited if you turned up at a new job?

When I was young, I used to do what is known in the trade as "Cleaning Metals".

Let me explain.

Non ferrous metals, that is, metals that have no iron or steel content, are worth much more than ferrous metals.

Typical examples of common non ferrous metals would be things like lead, copper, brass, aluminium, bronze, pewter etc. (Ferrrous metals would include forged or cast iron, and any type of steel)

Now say you have something that is made of both ferrous & non ferrous metals. A car gearbox perhaps, which has an aluminium casing, but is filled with steel cogs and shafts. Cleaning the metal would be the process of removing all the steel cogs, shafts, nuts, bolts, bearings, and everything, so that what you were left with was pure, clean aluminium on one side, and a pile of scrap iron on the other. (In the case of a gearbox, you would also have another pile containing 4 or five brass selector rods)

So basically, cleaning metals is the act of separating valuable non ferrous metals from the less valuable ferrous metals to which they are attached.

When I was a boy, my dad used to rent an old barn from a farmer named Stafford Poyser. (What a character he was) Every day, my brother Tracy and I would be dropped off at this barn with a bottle of pop, a couple of sandwiches, and several tons of "Dirty metal".

It was soul destroying work. sitting on an upturned bucket or cross-legged on the bare earth, hunched over some cold, oily piece of machinery, trying to take it apart.

It was never ending. No sooner had we finished one load than my dad would roll up in his lorry to take it away and deposit another. Don't get me wrong, we were not forced to do it, we just knew it had to be done. Times were hard, and money was scarce.

Some loads were worse than others. gearboxes (Which we got a lot of) were a bastard. They were filled with thick, smelly gear oil which always found a way of spilling on to your trousers, and they had loads of press-fit bearings that you needed specialist tools to remove, except we didn't have the specialist tools, so we just had to beat the bearing with a big hammer until the aluminium shattered and the bearing fell out. (Usually just as you were on the point if collapse)

Electric motors of all kinds would produce about 2 cwt (100kg) of copper wire per ton, but getting that wire out was a herculean task. We cleaned millions of them, and we hated every one.

The usual method was to open the casing by chiselling the rusted bolts until the end sheared off. then you would be left with an outer case which contained either two or four little coils of insulated copper wire. These were called the "Pads" and, once exposed, they were relatively easy to remove. The inner part, the "Armature" was like a big spindle, it was laced with insulated copper wire which ran through hundreds of small grooves in the metal. At first clance, this was impossible to get out.

You could get it out though, what you had to do was cut every strand of wire with a hammer and a razor-sharp chisel. Then you had to build a big flat fire. Not too hot, or you would lose some of the copper, (Old pallets were ideal for this purpose) lay your cut armatures on top, and burn them just enough to allow the insulation to shrivel and release it's grip on the wire. Then, when everything had cooled down, (Clean another gearbox while you're waiting) you could tease the copper wire out with the aid of some stout pliers.

There was loads of different types of "Dirty metals" for us to clean. each one with it's own particular problems and solutions. We loathed them all, but as I say, it had to be done.

After a long day, my dad would come and pick us up  in the truck and we would go home to a warm trailer and a huge bowl of whatever my mam had cooked that day. Then, if it was summer we would be off out with the dogs or messing about with the horses. If it was winter, we would sit by the fire and listen to the men talk, or watch our favourite TV programmes on a tiny portable 12 volt telly.

Did I hate cleaning metals? Yes, with a passion.

Would I go back? Yes, in a heartbeat.

     

[tikay]

The "Hawking" & "Cleaning Metals" Posts - superb, & give such an insight to the real world.

Poker is such an irrelevance compared to the real world, & yet so few seem to enjoy it for what it is, a game, in which some of the players seem to find so much to whinge about.

The "mind over matter" was interesting too, I have my own tale to tell about that today.

[RED-DOG]

Speaking of the real world, I've been contemplating life, (and the meaning thereof) lately, and I've come to the conclusion that man will always be in the unenviable position of knowing enough to know that he doesn't know enough.

[sovietsong]

superb post(s) red! 

so if you hated cleaning metal what was your favourite 'job'

[kukushkin88]

Speaking of the real world, I've been contemplating life, (and the meaning thereof) lately, and I've come to the conclusion that man will always be in the unenviable position of knowing enough to know that he doesn't know enough.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_know_that_I_know_nothing

[RED-DOG]

Speaking of the real world, I've been contemplating life, (and the meaning thereof) lately, and I've come to the conclusion that man will always be in the unenviable position of knowing enough to know that he doesn't know enough.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_know_that_I_know_nothing

That Socrates wasn't behind t' bush wuz e?

[RED-DOG]

superb post(s) red! 

so if you hated cleaning metal what was your favourite 'job'

When I was a lad, I loved hawking farms for scrap with my dad.

Riding about in the cab of the lorry, driving down unfamiliar lanes, (it was my job to open and close the gates) walking across fold yards, through barns and byres, and across the fields in search of the farmer.

Farmers are a taciturn bunch at the best of times. These were Yorkshire hill farmers, and to interrupt one when he was working was to take your life in your hands. My dad was good with people though, that, and a genuine interest in the land and the animals was usually enough to break the ice.

If we did manage to buy scrap iron from the farmer, it was usually in the form of old or broken farm implements. maybe a plough, a harrow, a muck spreader, and once, even a combined harvester.

Most of this kind of scrap was too heavy to lift by hand, but the farmer would usually lend us a JCB, or a tractor with a loading shovel. (I might get chance to drive) Failing that, my dad used to keep oxy-acetylene cutters on the lorry. The oxygen and propane bottles tied to the headboard, and the gun and bagging under the passenger seat.

My dad used to let me use the "Cutting tackle" (You would get shot for it these days) Because of my inexperience, I would use twice as much gas as he would, but, where possible, Gypsy children are always given the opportunity to learn.

If you were on the farm at lunchtime, you were always invited into the kitchen and given some of whatever everyone else was having. Usually a doorstop of bread with layer of creamy yellow butter and a thick slice of fat bacon or belly pork.

Sometimes, after his lunch break, the farmer would take time out to inspect any livestock that was due to give birth. (or had just done so) more often than not, I got to tag along. I have never lost my fascination with the miracle of birth and the powerful, almost magical instincts that guide mother and baby through those first few critical hours. 

I enjoyed lots of the work we did when I was a boy. But farm hawking was probably my favourite.