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ashetlandpony12 August 1969
The story I'm telling today is actually the one that inspired me to write this whole series of posts to begin with.
This is my favorite photo of all the ones that were taken of me during our 1969 visit to the UK. It shows me letting a handful of pebbles slowly fall from my hand into the River Wenning in Low Bentham in the rural West Riding of Yorkshire. I always liked the composition of the shot: the way I'm leaning at an angle, how that angle matches that of the curb, the bend in the road ahead, and the quaint old stone houses in the background.
On this day, 50 years ago, we accompanied Florence as she made her rounds as District Nurse for the National Health Service. Her first stop was at the police station in the village of Settle. While Florence did whatever it was she was there to do, Mother and I wandered around the market square, and of course, I found my way to an antique shop. Inside, against one wall, was a coin dealer, and after a brief perusal, I found these two old expatriated U.S. cents.
A few years before, I remembered reading an article in the magazine COINage about collectors sometimes finding old American coins in foreign lands, which, because the natives are not familiar with them, could sometimes be bought for far less than they were worth. Well, this was my first (and as it turned out, also my last) such experience.
The 1844 cent at left would have been a remarkable enough find just by itself. Priced at £1 ($2.40 at the time), this coin was worth at least $10. But the 1857 cent was in an 'allsorts' dish of random foreign coins that were only 2/6 apiece (about 30¢), and it was worth about $20 in this condition! I could hardly believe my good fortune!
The store at right is the probable location of the antique shop in Settle where I found the coins.
After Settle, we ventured deeper into the rural hinterlands of the West Riding to the even smaller village of Low Bentham. And while Florence tended her duties there, Mother and I went for a little stroll around town, and we ended up on this bridge, where she took that candid picture of Melancholy Me above. I imagine my newly-acquired coins are on my person at this moment, and that the pen in my shirt pocket is the same Pentel Sign Pen that I used to write my journal entry for the day below.
When I went to find what the place looked like today, I was surprised to see that relatively little has changed. The road and the bridge are the same, even the bend in the bridge's railing nearby where I was standing and the old directional road sign in the background are still there!
I would love to be able to visit Low Bentham and the rest of the Yorkshire Dales again. For years in my younger days, I dreamt of living there. It was and still remains one of my favorite places on earth.
The story I'm telling today is actually the one that inspired me to write this whole series of posts to begin with.
This is my favorite photo of all the ones that were taken of me during our 1969 visit to the UK. It shows me letting a handful of pebbles slowly fall from my hand into the River Wenning in Low Bentham in the rural West Riding of Yorkshire. I always liked the composition of the shot: the way I'm leaning at an angle, how that angle matches that of the curb, the bend in the road ahead, and the quaint old stone houses in the background.
On this day, 50 years ago, we accompanied Florence as she made her rounds as District Nurse for the National Health Service. Her first stop was at the police station in the village of Settle. While Florence did whatever it was she was there to do, Mother and I wandered around the market square, and of course, I found my way to an antique shop. Inside, against one wall, was a coin dealer, and after a brief perusal, I found these two old expatriated U.S. cents.
A few years before, I remembered reading an article in the magazine COINage about collectors sometimes finding old American coins in foreign lands, which, because the natives are not familiar with them, could sometimes be bought for far less than they were worth. Well, this was my first (and as it turned out, also my last) such experience.
The 1844 cent at left would have been a remarkable enough find just by itself. Priced at £1 ($2.40 at the time), this coin was worth at least $10. But the 1857 cent was in an 'allsorts' dish of random foreign coins that were only 2/6 apiece (about 30¢), and it was worth about $20 in this condition! I could hardly believe my good fortune!
The store at right is the probable location of the antique shop in Settle where I found the coins.
After Settle, we ventured deeper into the rural hinterlands of the West Riding to the even smaller village of Low Bentham. And while Florence tended her duties there, Mother and I went for a little stroll around town, and we ended up on this bridge, where she took that candid picture of Melancholy Me above. I imagine my newly-acquired coins are on my person at this moment, and that the pen in my shirt pocket is the same Pentel Sign Pen that I used to write my journal entry for the day below.
When I went to find what the place looked like today, I was surprised to see that relatively little has changed. The road and the bridge are the same, even the bend in the bridge's railing nearby where I was standing and the old directional road sign in the background are still there!
I would love to be able to visit Low Bentham and the rest of the Yorkshire Dales again. For years in my younger days, I dreamt of living there. It was and still remains one of my favorite places on earth.
