Uncle Tom's Auction

Countryside Column for 13 June.

Outbidding Uncle Tom Cobley and all

It was a scene straight out of rural history.  Gnarled old men leant on long sticks. Younger ones sprouted bushy beards and unkempt hair under greasy flat caps. Dungarees and steel toe capped boots were the apparel of choice.  Collie dogs strained on leads. Children played on ancient farm machinery.  Here and there a group gathered in a tight circle and over the hub-bub a voice could be heard: “Five pound.  Who’ll start me at five pound.  Come on you must have a five pound note in your pocket.  Thank you sir. That five I’m bid.  Who’ll say six?”

Then, suddenly, out of the morning sunshine, came the roar of a powerful engine.  A light aircraft dropped from the skies and skidded across the grass just a few feet away, reminding us that we were at an aerodrome in the 21^st century rather than at Widecombe fair in the 19^th. (Okay, I know  Widecome fair was for livestock not farm equipment, but it certainly felt as if we had Uncle Tom Cobley and all with us at Headcorn so I think my analogy holds good.)

I’ve always loved auctions, but am rather nervous of them.  Not because I fear an inadvertent blink will be mistaken for a thousand pound bid. No, more because I can’t resist a bargain.  Which means I usually come away with a load of things I really didn’t need  just because they were cheap – or at least they were when the bidding started!

Anyway I’d gone along to the Sale of Machinery and Equipment after seeing a tractor mounted log splitter in the catalogue. If I could get it for, say, two hundred it would be well worth it. Well, of course I didn’t. The man in the T-shirt with the logo “Mobile Log Splitting” ended up bidding nearly five hundred for it.  But as compensation I secured a trailer drawbar and jack for only a tenner.  I didn’t actually need them, but it was too good a deal to resist. 

As I was leaving two old and rather rusty drive shafts for a tractor mower were being sold. As I didn’t need them either I kept my hands firmly in pocket and didn’t blink once.

The following day in the orchard the topper hit a hidden log and the drive shaft snapped in half.  If only I’d had a spare…