Continued from
http://blondepoker.com/forum/index.php?topic=30601.msg979535#msg979535There were two big names in air rifles back then. One was BSA with their “Airsporter” “Meteor” and “Mercury” models; the other was Webly with the “Hurricane” “Hawke” and “Ospray”. Attercliffe Sale and Exchange had some fine examples of all these, but they each carried an orange tag, with prices ranging from £2.9s.11d. to a whopping £5.19s.6d.
I took out my purse, (Yes I used to have a purse) In those days money, (If you had any) wasn’t something you carried around with you all the time, it was something you kept at home until you were actually going to buy something. I kept mine in an old purse and if I needed to take it anywhere, I took it in the purse. Anyway, I took out my purse and looked inside. I don’t know why I did this, it was a pointless exercise, I knew exactly how much was in there, one carefully folded ten bob note, and one threepenny bit. Not nearly enough for me to buy any of the guns on offer. I knew however that the owner would let potential customers test them by firing them at a stack of old books at the back of the shop, so I decided that I might as well go inside and have some fun.
After letting me test fire most of the guns, waiting patiently while I examined the pile of books to see how far the pellets had penetrated, and discussing at length the pro’s and cons of things like crimp-fit v tapped foresights or under lever v break-barrel cocking, it suddenly seemed to dawn on the shopkeeper that I wasn’t going to actually buy anything. He regarded me balefully over his wire-framed half-moon reading glasses, seeming to notice for the first time my youth and my scarecrowesque appearance.
“Has tha got any brass at all lad?” he enquired, as he took the air rifle I was holding and replaced it in the window.
“I’ve got ten bob and me bus fare,” I told him.
“Well” he said, as he put his hand on my shoulder and steered me towards the door, “Ah dunt think we’ll be doin’ any arms deals today”.
Just as I was leaving the shop, he pulled me back inside. “’Ang on a minute, ave a look at this”.
He stepped into a back room and re emerged a few moments later holding the most decrepit looking air rifle you could imagine. The lock and barrel were coated with a layer of thick, “stain your hands red” type rust. The stock, totally devoid of varnish, had that sort of dry, powdery feel that you find on a wooden clothes peg after it has been left out on the line all summer, or on a walking stick that has been at the back of the shed for years.
On the top of the barrel, at the breech end, I could see the faint outline of something cut into the metal. I spat on the inside of my jersey and scrubbed away some of the grime to expose a little etching of a lady in long flowing robes holding a rifle above her head. Below this was some faint lettering, “Diana, cal .177”
I looked at the gun suspiciously. The shopkeeper, now in full salesman mode advised me, “Dun’t judge a book by it’s cover lad, it just needs a bit o ticklin’ oop an tha’ll be ower t’ moon wi it. Tha’ll see”.
Unconvinced, I asked him if I could test fire it, as I had with the ones from the window. “O’ course tha can.” He said enthusiastically, and he passed me a tin of .177 calibre pellets. Not without some difficulty, I cocked the gun and inserted a pellet into the breech Then I took careful aim at the stack of books and pulled the trigger.
The gun made a loud “kerchunga” sound, then the lock and barrel swivelled see-saw like a couple of times before chattering to the floor, leaving me looking slightly ridiculous with one eye still closed and the stock firmly clamped to my shoulder. I rescued the lock and barrel from the floor and opened the breech to find the pellet still in position
“Like ah said” cooed the shopkeeper, “It just needs a bit o ticklin’ oop.”
It bares testament to my negotiating skills, (and those of the shopkeeper) that 10 minutes later, I found myself walking home. Sans bus fare, but with half a rifle tucked under each arm. Yes folks, I had somehow managed to beat him down to precisely 10s.3d, or, to put it another way, exactly the amount that I had in my pocket.
Wasn’t that lucky?
Author