K
klause
Guest
So, once again, I'm blessed by the Gods of the pipe.
I'd thrown on a bid just for kicks, but didn't expect to be within a million miles of this by the time bidding finished. I was dreaming. These old Pete's are probably some of the finest smoking pipes known to man, or woman, and pretty much impossible to resist. Also, the whole Peterson mythology adds to the experience - who walked the streets of Dublin enjoying this pipe? Well, it'll be me now!!! The email arrived into the inbox, and I paid instantly, without thinking. Then, sat back, and smiled broadly - a tin and a half of Toby, at English prices, is what this marvel set me back. Couldn't fathom it. Still can't. How do these get passed up so easily? I expected all the pipe smoking world to be jumping on this like a fungus.
It arrived in my post box last week, and I set to on Friday evening, finishing off on Saturday afternoon. It took a bit of cleaning internally - as it was quite bunged up with tar. In fact I eventually decided to take ever increasing sizes of drill bit to the shank to unclog it, as the alcohol soaked cleaners were getting me nowhere. By the time I finished it had gone from no draw to wide open. (No wood was damaged in the reawakening of this pipe!). The stem was equally bunged, but easily sorted, and the fairly heavy oxidation removed and polished up nicely. The bowl had a lovely even cake, now consigned to the compost heap, to reveal a perfect piece of wood. The rim was darkened, but not charred or knocked. And externally it just needed a clean and wax. It was then set on the mantle to let the alcohol dry out, while I pondered and admired it. The previous owner had loved this pipe, treating it tenderly.
The plan had been to spend Sunday in the greenhouse with this beauty, but life had other plans. Besides, I didn't know what to smoke in it. I only have HH Latakia Flake open just now, but that wasn't for this lovely. So, today I rummaged the sock draw where the stash is kept, and Bingo, there it was. My last Warrior plug. Warrior for an Old Warrior. What could be better? This plug had over a year and a half of ageing, so, a special plug for a special pipe.
So, I sat, I smoked, I admired, I contemplated, I smiled broadly. Who owned this pipe? Was it bought to welcome home a warrior at the end of hostilities? Bought by a warrior to celebrate the end of hostilities? A celebration at surviving the war to end all wars? Or, simply to smoke, to replace a long battered predecessor? Who knows? 1918 was a special year, an important year, the end of an era, the dawn of another, the birth of a pipe, the beginning of a story. And, today, a new chapter in the story, involving, me, a Pete, the tomatoes and spiders in the greenhouse.
A final note: if you've never had the pleasure of smoking Warrior, you should. If you have, try ageing it - it takes a wondrous smoke and makes it sublime. Or, maybe, that was the very special Peterson I smoked it in that elevated it. If you see an old Pete, looking for a home, offering itself cheaply, don't hesitate - you will not regret it.
I'd thrown on a bid just for kicks, but didn't expect to be within a million miles of this by the time bidding finished. I was dreaming. These old Pete's are probably some of the finest smoking pipes known to man, or woman, and pretty much impossible to resist. Also, the whole Peterson mythology adds to the experience - who walked the streets of Dublin enjoying this pipe? Well, it'll be me now!!! The email arrived into the inbox, and I paid instantly, without thinking. Then, sat back, and smiled broadly - a tin and a half of Toby, at English prices, is what this marvel set me back. Couldn't fathom it. Still can't. How do these get passed up so easily? I expected all the pipe smoking world to be jumping on this like a fungus.
It arrived in my post box last week, and I set to on Friday evening, finishing off on Saturday afternoon. It took a bit of cleaning internally - as it was quite bunged up with tar. In fact I eventually decided to take ever increasing sizes of drill bit to the shank to unclog it, as the alcohol soaked cleaners were getting me nowhere. By the time I finished it had gone from no draw to wide open. (No wood was damaged in the reawakening of this pipe!). The stem was equally bunged, but easily sorted, and the fairly heavy oxidation removed and polished up nicely. The bowl had a lovely even cake, now consigned to the compost heap, to reveal a perfect piece of wood. The rim was darkened, but not charred or knocked. And externally it just needed a clean and wax. It was then set on the mantle to let the alcohol dry out, while I pondered and admired it. The previous owner had loved this pipe, treating it tenderly.
The plan had been to spend Sunday in the greenhouse with this beauty, but life had other plans. Besides, I didn't know what to smoke in it. I only have HH Latakia Flake open just now, but that wasn't for this lovely. So, today I rummaged the sock draw where the stash is kept, and Bingo, there it was. My last Warrior plug. Warrior for an Old Warrior. What could be better? This plug had over a year and a half of ageing, so, a special plug for a special pipe.
So, I sat, I smoked, I admired, I contemplated, I smiled broadly. Who owned this pipe? Was it bought to welcome home a warrior at the end of hostilities? Bought by a warrior to celebrate the end of hostilities? A celebration at surviving the war to end all wars? Or, simply to smoke, to replace a long battered predecessor? Who knows? 1918 was a special year, an important year, the end of an era, the dawn of another, the birth of a pipe, the beginning of a story. And, today, a new chapter in the story, involving, me, a Pete, the tomatoes and spiders in the greenhouse.
A final note: if you've never had the pleasure of smoking Warrior, you should. If you have, try ageing it - it takes a wondrous smoke and makes it sublime. Or, maybe, that was the very special Peterson I smoked it in that elevated it. If you see an old Pete, looking for a home, offering itself cheaply, don't hesitate - you will not regret it.
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