dc50
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- Joined
- Aug 14, 2006
- Messages
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What a fantastic photo Mark.appy Sunday Guardians! Enjoy the last of the weekend!
What a fantastic photo Mark.appy Sunday Guardians! Enjoy the last of the weekend!
Hey PT - from A Wright's Permier line?Good morning and good Sunday Guardians!
Thanks Jack! What a pleasant way to spend a Sunday evening!And she's a looker Ron
All that talk of sharpening...
Nothing goes to waste at Grumble Towers, even all those international postal receipts find a use in my sharpening box!
Very good Greg!July 2047, Yorkshire, England
The patrons nodded to the elderly gentleman as he entered the pub, removed his flat cap, and sat himself at his favorite seat at the bar. He ordered a pint of Real Ale and chatted with the young bartender as she pulled his Bitter from the cask. She was new here, having arrived from the US only a few weeks prior. But she and the old man had already struck up a friendship; she enjoying his stories and he appreciating her interest in the area’s history.
The man settled in with his pint and the daily paper. Around page three he noticed the young woman was struggling to make progress cutting up a pile of limes while also tending to the steady arrival of thirsty patrons and their drink orders.
“Hand them over here and I’ll help.”
“What?”
“The limes. Give them to me and I’ll help you catch up.”
“Oh! Thank you. Here you go.”
After pushing over the cutting board and bag of limes she began to pass him the knife. Casually waving it off, he said “thank you, but no need: I’ve brought my own.” He carefully withdrew a modest-sized folding knife from his right front pocket, opened it, and reached for a lime.
“This should be interesting,” she thought. But, before she could watch, a group of customers burst through the door and headed directly to the bar to place their order. Pints and chip butties for the lot. Frankly, she didn’t understand the appeal of the sandwiches, but they certainly were popular.
Returning her attention to the man, she was surprised to see a stack of neatly-cut lime wedges arranged on the cutting board. He was wiping the blade clean with a napkin, preparing to return the knife to his pocket.
“Wow! That must be quite a knife! What kind is it?”
“It is indeed. It’s called a lambsfoot. It’s my favorite style. This one is particularly special. It’s from a batch I had made thirty years ago.”
“Lambsfoot? Neat! I think it’s called a sheepsfoot in America. I love learning these regional differences in language.”
The man smiled at that.
“We call a sheepsfoot a sheepsfoot here, too, but a lambsfoot is different. Notice how the blade tapers as it gets towards to tip? That’s the defining characteristic. The spine of a sheepsfoot blade is parallel to the edge all the way down. It may seem like a small point, but, believe me, it makes a big difference.”
“I don’t know. Thirty years is a lot of use. How do I know it didn’t start out parallel and then get that taper as you sharpened it over the years?”
“Ah. Clever! You’ve got good wits about you. But, think about it: if that were the case the edge would trend up to the spine, but here the spine trends down to the tip.”
“Oh. Good point. Hmm.”
He deftly rotated the still-open knife in his hand so that he could present it to her handle-first. “Here, you don’t have to take my word for it. Take a look for yourself.”
She was puzzled at first, but then a smile appeared on her face just as she let out a good laugh.
“Real Lamb Foot! OK, Jack, you win! I’m sorry for doubting. Let me buy you a pint and you can tell me more about it.”
“Thank you. I’d love that, but it’ll have to wait until next time. I’m off to Sheffield in the morning and have some things to attend to first.”
With that, the man stood up from his seat, grabbed his hat, waved goodbye to the other patrons, and headed to the door.
“Real Lamb Foot. Who would have thought...” the bartender muttered to herself. She was going to have to find out more.
To be continued.
It was indeed a good day my friend!Double your pleasure, double your fun...with a double lambfoot day it has to be good
Thank you, Harvey.Love that sun-kissed image of your Samba HH Barlow, John.
Thank you so much for the compliment Harvey! I think the Ebony on Charlie’s Waynorth Lambsfoot knives is quite exceptional! That’s a beautiful ole gal your sporting today!
Love it, Dave!
Good Sunday to all.
Good Morning Guardians
Beautiful pic Dave. Lovely composition.
Very nice picture. Nice use of the tin.
Good Sunday morning, Guardians
Good morning all!
Good Morning fellows!! Thank you for the fine comments.Good Morning Guardians.
July 2047, Yorkshire, England
The patrons nodded to the elderly gentleman as he entered the pub, removed his flat cap, and sat himself at his favorite seat at the bar. He ordered a pint of Real Ale and chatted with the young bartender as she pulled his Bitter from the cask. She was new here, having arrived from the US only a few weeks prior. But she and the old man had already struck up a friendship; she enjoying his stories and he appreciating her interest in the area’s history.
The man settled in with his pint and the daily paper. Around page three he noticed the young woman was struggling to make progress cutting up a pile of limes while also tending to the steady arrival of thirsty patrons and their drink orders.
“Hand them over here and I’ll help.”
“What?”
“The limes. Give them to me and I’ll help you catch up.”
“Oh! Thank you. Here you go.”
After pushing over the cutting board and bag of limes she began to pass him the knife. Casually waving it off, he said “thank you, but no need: I’ve brought my own.” He carefully withdrew a modest-sized folding knife from his right front pocket, opened it, and reached for a lime.
“This should be interesting,” she thought. But, before she could watch, a group of customers burst through the door and headed directly to the bar to place their order. Pints and chip butties for the lot. Frankly, she didn’t understand the appeal of the sandwiches, but they certainly were popular.
Returning her attention to the man, she was surprised to see a stack of neatly-cut lime wedges arranged on the cutting board. He was wiping the blade clean with a napkin, preparing to return the knife to his pocket.
“Wow! That must be quite a knife! What kind is it?”
“It is indeed. It’s called a lambsfoot. It’s my favorite style. This one is particularly special. It’s from a batch I had made thirty years ago.”
“Lambsfoot? Neat! I think it’s called a sheepsfoot in America. I love learning these regional differences in language.”
The man smiled at that.
“We call a sheepsfoot a sheepsfoot here, too, but a lambsfoot is different. Notice how the blade tapers as it gets towards to tip? That’s the defining characteristic. The spine of a sheepsfoot blade is parallel to the edge all the way down. It may seem like a small point, but, believe me, it makes a big difference.”
“I don’t know. Thirty years is a lot of use. How do I know it didn’t start out parallel and then get that taper as you sharpened it over the years?”
“Ah. Clever! You’ve got good wits about you. But, think about it: if that were the case the edge would trend up to the spine, but here the spine trends down to the tip.”
“Oh. Good point. Hmm.”
He deftly rotated the still-open knife in his hand so that he could present it to her handle-first. “Here, you don’t have to take my word for it. Take a look for yourself.”
She was puzzled at first, but then a smile appeared on her face just as she let out a good laugh.
“Real Lamb Foot! OK, Jack, you win! I’m sorry for doubting. Let me buy you a pint and you can tell me more about it.”
“Thank you. I’d love that, but it’ll have to wait until next time. I’m off to Sheffield in the morning and have some things to attend to first.”
With that, the man stood up from his seat, grabbed his hat, waved goodbye to the other patrons, and headed to the door.
“Real Lamb Foot. Who would have thought...” the bartender muttered to herself. She was going to have to find out more.
To be continued.
Thank you Jack. Looks like you're having a great afternoon. I slice a lime every day.Wow! Fantastic pic Dwight
Most excellent Greg. Most excellent indeed. Looking forward to the next installment.To be continued
That's some X Files type of stuff going on.By a SPOOKY coincidence
Love the photo. I've heard that flies are repulsed by sliced lime. That's why a slice of lime is put into a bottle of Corona beer in Mexico. Here I thought it was for the flavor! That's why I add a slice to my vodka & tonic...tastes good.I'm flattered by your well-crafted vignette Greg Thank you, I hope I'm still slicing limes in 30 years!
By a SPOOKY coincidence, my young lady is on her way over, and I just asked her if she fancied a Moscow Mule with the burgers I'm making! I don't think I've cut a lime since Christmas
I do like that photo, Jack, great color and contrastI'm flattered by your well-crafted vignette Greg Thank you, I hope I'm still slicing limes in 30 years!
By a SPOOKY coincidence, my young lady is on her way over, and I just asked her if she fancied a Moscow Mule with the burgers I'm making! I don't think I've cut a lime since Christmas
Real nice foto...of that exceptional ebony!
Great horn cover...Hope y'all are having a nice relaxing Sunday. I'll be back a little later to catch up on quotes , comments and the like.
Another ebony beauty, nice pic!
When I was a kid, my favorite sandwich was tuna and baloney (bologna) Not sure how I came up with that combo Could talk my mom into making it only once in a while, though. My Dad's favorite was baloney and peanut butter. Every once in a while a bite would get stuck to his roof of his mouth and he'd try to work it loose with his tongue. Your post jogged a sudden memory flash of my mom saying "George, would you PLEASE go into the bathroom" while he was fervently trying to work it loose sitting at the tableHave you tried a Spam and peanut butter sandwich?
That is a fantastic taleJuly 2047, Yorkshire, England
The patrons nodded to the elderly gentleman as he entered the pub, removed his flat cap, and sat himself at his favorite seat at the bar. He ordered a pint of Real Ale and chatted with the young bartender as she pulled his Bitter from the cask. She was new here, having arrived from the US only a few weeks prior. But she and the old man had already struck up a friendship; she enjoying his stories and he appreciating her interest in the area’s history.
The man settled in with his pint and the daily paper. Around page three he noticed the young woman was struggling to make progress cutting up a pile of limes while also tending to the steady arrival of thirsty patrons and their drink orders.
“Hand them over here and I’ll help.”
“What?”
“The limes. Give them to me and I’ll help you catch up.”
“Oh! Thank you. Here you go.”
After pushing over the cutting board and bag of limes she began to pass him the knife. Casually waving it off, he said “thank you, but no need: I’ve brought my own.” He carefully withdrew a modest-sized folding knife from his right front pocket, opened it, and reached for a lime.
“This should be interesting,” she thought. But, before she could watch, a group of customers burst through the door and headed directly to the bar to place their order. Pints and chip butties for the lot. Frankly, she didn’t understand the appeal of the sandwiches, but they certainly were popular.
Returning her attention to the man, she was surprised to see a stack of neatly-cut lime wedges arranged on the cutting board. He was wiping the blade clean with a napkin, preparing to return the knife to his pocket.
“Wow! That must be quite a knife! What kind is it?”
“It is indeed. It’s called a lambsfoot. It’s my favorite style. This one is particularly special. It’s from a batch I had made thirty years ago.”
“Lambsfoot? Neat! I think it’s called a sheepsfoot in America. I love learning these regional differences in language.”
The man smiled at that.
“We call a sheepsfoot a sheepsfoot here, too, but a lambsfoot is different. Notice how the blade tapers as it gets towards to tip? That’s the defining characteristic. The spine of a sheepsfoot blade is parallel to the edge all the way down. It may seem like a small point, but, believe me, it makes a big difference.”
“I don’t know. Thirty years is a lot of use. How do I know it didn’t start out parallel and then get that taper as you sharpened it over the years?”
“Ah. Clever! You’ve got good wits about you. But, think about it: if that were the case the edge would trend up to the spine, but here the spine trends down to the tip.”
“Oh. Good point. Hmm.”
He deftly rotated the still-open knife in his hand so that he could present it to her handle-first. “Here, you don’t have to take my word for it. Take a look for yourself.”
She was puzzled at first, but then a smile appeared on her face just as she let out a good laugh.
“Real Lamb Foot! OK, Jack, you win! I’m sorry for doubting. Let me buy you a pint and you can tell me more about it.”
“Thank you. I’d love that, but it’ll have to wait until next time. I’m off to Sheffield in the morning and have some things to attend to first.”
With that, the man stood up from his seat, grabbed his hat, waved goodbye to the other patrons, and headed to the door.
“Real Lamb Foot. Who would have thought...” the bartender muttered to herself. She was going to have to find out more.
To be continued.
Yep, for sure. I use the Sharpmaker or a set of Spydercos on my KME. But most of the time, a strop keeps them plenty sharp for my light use.I feel the same way about the diamond stones. The ceramics have a smoother feel, and I don't have to worry if I happen to use too much pressure.