Tuesday, July 20, 2004
The Black Sword
This evening, I bought this.
How cool is that???!
I had to rush after my shift to catch the shop before it closed, which was nearly impossible. I arrived with 5 minutes to spare.
And so, now, re-minisce is a proud owner of a sabre with :
1) a German pommel
and
2) a Russian-designed blade
bought at
3) a French supplier
based in
4) England
(click to enlarge)
Only in the UK...
The blade felt heavier than I was used to once assembled, but the more I handle it and adjust to the new balance, the more I like it.
Armed, and dangerous.
Smile. :)
*****
Did I mention that sabres sing as they're drawn? I've got a makeshift plastic scabbard, and when i draw my sabre from it, it sings.
My previous Uhlmann blade was a thing of legend; the first sabre blade I ever bought, that kept my company on many stressed-out days back in RJC preparing for exams. Strike, strike. Parry, strike - that old fencing dummy never knew what hit it.
I polished it lovingly and lavished a great deal of attention on it and somehow it ended up with a reflective white sheen to it. When I drew it, it rang out in a fluting feminine voice, which continued to breathe till it gradually died away.
This new blade has a much deeper voice, and for some reason it seems to go on sounding long after the actual noise has stopped.
How cool is that???!
I had to rush after my shift to catch the shop before it closed, which was nearly impossible. I arrived with 5 minutes to spare.
And so, now, re-minisce is a proud owner of a sabre with :
1) a German pommel
and
2) a Russian-designed blade
bought at
3) a French supplier
based in
4) England
(click to enlarge)
Only in the UK...
The blade felt heavier than I was used to once assembled, but the more I handle it and adjust to the new balance, the more I like it.
Armed, and dangerous.
Smile. :)
*****
Did I mention that sabres sing as they're drawn? I've got a makeshift plastic scabbard, and when i draw my sabre from it, it sings.
My previous Uhlmann blade was a thing of legend; the first sabre blade I ever bought, that kept my company on many stressed-out days back in RJC preparing for exams. Strike, strike. Parry, strike - that old fencing dummy never knew what hit it.
I polished it lovingly and lavished a great deal of attention on it and somehow it ended up with a reflective white sheen to it. When I drew it, it rang out in a fluting feminine voice, which continued to breathe till it gradually died away.
This new blade has a much deeper voice, and for some reason it seems to go on sounding long after the actual noise has stopped.
