Blacksmith made Gimlet

A gimlet is a tool useful for a variety of tasks. They are ideal for starting a hole or screw, they can be used as a leather awl and in a pinch can be used as a corkscrew… do not ask why as sometimes it is better not to know.

The wife sent me to town with a list of things to pick up for her. After some time at the dry goods store I noted the mule had a shoe in need of repair. While the smith fitted a replacement shoe I noted this useful little gimlet. It was of the size that I felt might be useful so a few coins passed from my hand to the smith and we were both pleased.

This particular gimlet was made by a local blacksmith, it may look crude but it works and it works well. The handle can be easily removed for compact storage. Function has a beauty all of its own. A simple wooden handle and well worn hand forged look is quite appealing to me. I like tools made from worn out files and the everyday tools made by blacksmiths. Simplicity in form and function garner a degree of appreciation from me. I am a simple man and I like simple things. This is particularly true when carry an inherent beauty within.

Children in arms

Many of the neighbor women will bring their newborn children for my Mina to see. I am not overly fond of babies or children in general. They are too fragile for my taste. I am always afraid I might hurt them. Children are best when they are sleeping as they are quiet and don’t need their rags changed as often.

This little one was brought into Mina’s bakery with his visiting mother. When his mother wished some quiet time to visit I was left to entertain the little fella. I took him downstairs with me to the tavern and left him on the floor next to the stairs while I did some light cleaning. Of a sudden I heard some strange sounds and came around the bar to see the child making noises at the cat of Mrs. Mina. The cat was listening with careful attention.

I do believe the child was passing on the wonders of the world to that black cat. As soon as the cat saw me it disappeared as cats are wont to do and the baby went silent as if he did not wish to be overheard. Just to be on the safe side and to be certain the cat did not crawl into the basket with the child and accidentally smother it. In the interest of my continued existence I moved the basket with child onto the bar where I could keep a better eye on him.

I pulled down a couple bottles of my finest cognac and set them beside the basket so I might clean the area behind those bottles. When I turned to look at the basket one bottle was missing. You must understand my shock and annoyance when I discovered the baby had gotten hold of one bottle and was gnawing on the cork. At first I was quite angry then upon consideration I had to admit the child had taste.

So I did what any good tender of bars would do, I provided a taste for the child. Only a taste though as I am a cheap bastard. At first he looked startled then his eyes went crossed and his eyes shut. At first I thought I had killed the child. Then the child opened his eyes and let loose a mighty belch. He then proceeded to smack his lips and reach for more. You can imagine my delight when I used a bit of stale bread to soak up some of the local beer and the child turned up his nose at such rot. Although the cat was quick to devour it… I suppose there is no counting of taste.

It was about that time Mrs. Mina called for me to bring the little one back up the stairs. I swear to you fine reader that the little one waved at me on the way out the door. Though for some reason Mrs. Mina gave me a suspicious look when I invited the mother to bring him by anytime.