My Friend Bill...
Posted 01-25-2009 at 08:30 AM by robbie_d
During my time in the antiques trade, I met and became close friends with, a guy whom we referred to as: Russian Bill… He was a big, powerful looking man, the resemblance to Kaiser Wilhelm I – second to none…
Bill always laid claim to being Russian – not German: although he spoke both languages fluently…
My friend lived in a 7.5 tonne Ford van, which had a Luton top: that part forming the total comfort zone within his property… There was a small gas cooking appliance tucked in one corner, but other than that, the remaining space, was used to transport his horde of antiques, which he sold at fairs and from the back of the van: when chance provided the opportunity… He seldom stayed at our centre for more that a few weeks, before heading off to Ireland, where he spent most of his time…
Bill had few personal possessions – such could be counted on the fingers of one hand…
Two of the most prized, were his stamp collection, which he valued at many thousands of pounds and a ‘hand built’ mechanical model Carousel, which he’d supposedly obtained from an elderly Irish gentleman many years ago…
Measuring about five foot in diameter, that carousel was a work of art, which took a couple of days to piece together, before the clock-work mechanism could be powered up, allowing the machine to revolve, as the lights flashed and the music flowed…
Friend William, often remarked that there would always be a blank ‘sales ticket’ on that piece of equipment – he considered it ‘priceless’…
When news reached us, that the Centre would be closing just before Christmas 1998, Bill – realising his second home from home would no longer exist – started toying with the idea of returning to Russia, where he said he was the owner of a large section of land, that ran adjacent to pine forests and a shallow winding river… Hundreds of square miles; supporting lush grasslands: by all accounts…
“We are both free spirits - come with me Robbie and join in the adventure of a lifetime” he said in his excellent, but very guttural English…
“We can spend the rest of our days, fishing and hunting in the river and forests… We can build a log cabin, to shelter in during the winter months and with no one to disturb us, we can eke out our lives in relative peace”…
“Bill” I replied “It sounds a fantastic idea, but knowing you and something of your past, I can just see someone stepping out from behind a tree, having been waiting for your return for generations, peppering you with lead from a AK-47 - whilst I ran this way and that, trying to duck the bullets”…
He laughed loudly and hollowly… “That’s my boy” - he commented… “Ever the perpetual pessimist…
“Not really” I replied – with the inevitable chuckle… As with your carousel, the ticket on me: reads – ‘priceless’…
From the day the centre closed, I’ve never heard from, or set eyes on Bill again… I do however, often wonder were he eventually finished up…
Bill always laid claim to being Russian – not German: although he spoke both languages fluently…
My friend lived in a 7.5 tonne Ford van, which had a Luton top: that part forming the total comfort zone within his property… There was a small gas cooking appliance tucked in one corner, but other than that, the remaining space, was used to transport his horde of antiques, which he sold at fairs and from the back of the van: when chance provided the opportunity… He seldom stayed at our centre for more that a few weeks, before heading off to Ireland, where he spent most of his time…
Bill had few personal possessions – such could be counted on the fingers of one hand…
Two of the most prized, were his stamp collection, which he valued at many thousands of pounds and a ‘hand built’ mechanical model Carousel, which he’d supposedly obtained from an elderly Irish gentleman many years ago…
Measuring about five foot in diameter, that carousel was a work of art, which took a couple of days to piece together, before the clock-work mechanism could be powered up, allowing the machine to revolve, as the lights flashed and the music flowed…
Friend William, often remarked that there would always be a blank ‘sales ticket’ on that piece of equipment – he considered it ‘priceless’…
When news reached us, that the Centre would be closing just before Christmas 1998, Bill – realising his second home from home would no longer exist – started toying with the idea of returning to Russia, where he said he was the owner of a large section of land, that ran adjacent to pine forests and a shallow winding river… Hundreds of square miles; supporting lush grasslands: by all accounts…
“We are both free spirits - come with me Robbie and join in the adventure of a lifetime” he said in his excellent, but very guttural English…
“We can spend the rest of our days, fishing and hunting in the river and forests… We can build a log cabin, to shelter in during the winter months and with no one to disturb us, we can eke out our lives in relative peace”…
“Bill” I replied “It sounds a fantastic idea, but knowing you and something of your past, I can just see someone stepping out from behind a tree, having been waiting for your return for generations, peppering you with lead from a AK-47 - whilst I ran this way and that, trying to duck the bullets”…
He laughed loudly and hollowly… “That’s my boy” - he commented… “Ever the perpetual pessimist…
“Not really” I replied – with the inevitable chuckle… As with your carousel, the ticket on me: reads – ‘priceless’…
From the day the centre closed, I’ve never heard from, or set eyes on Bill again… I do however, often wonder were he eventually finished up…
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