A pilgrimage to Gun Paradise
Posted: Mon Jun 05, 2006 10:56 am
Gentlemen,
Firstly, apologies for this overly long and tedious account of my trip to London. But, we all have heard and read so much of London?s best guns and I wanted to capture what it is like at those famed gun shops. I wanted this to be my first post on Indiansforguns. I am truly happy that IFG is up and running.Thanks to Abhijeet, Mehul, Mack The Knife and others. Hope to post more frequently henceforth.
As I finally turned in a disaster of a research proposal, fit for an eminently possible rejection by my (im)personal tutor, I began to think of the ways of infusing some life into my rather unexciting existence in the regime academia. Then it suddenly struck me that I haven?t been to any of the famed gun makers of London. Though London is just two and half hours from Warwick University, I was too engrossed in meeting the demands of the course work and my nocturnal occupation of purveying intoxicating fluids to semi-juveniles at the residential taproom. I realised what an ass I have been all these days to not to have embarked upon that bounden pilgrimage of a true gun lover. Much as I wanted to kick myself in the southern aspect, certain anatomical incapacities inbuilt into the human body prevented me from accomplishing that feat. So, this weekend, I just upped and went to London. Yes Sir. So, I landed at the Victoria Station and stood looking lost much like a country yokel on his first visit to the Megapolis. I didn?t even plan the ways and means of reaching my destinations. Then a kind gentleman explained the tube system to me. I thanked him profusely, purchased the day saver ticket and hopped into the train. As I got out of the tube and started ambulating towards 33, Bruton Street, I came across this distinguished looking grumpy elderly gentleman, sauntering leisurely, with a distinct frown on his wrinkled visage, betraying a strong disapproval of the way Messrs Tony Blair (or Bliar- not a spelling mistake- as my friend Eug loves to write) has been managing the affairs of the realm at the nearby building, the Parliament.
Then as I was passing through 36, St James Street, I suddenly espied a familiar name, Beretta. Though not on my plan, I decided to take a peek into the shop. As I stepped into the gun room on the first floor, a middle aged gentleman of about 55, who looked more like a kind principal of a Kindergarten school, discussing things with a younger man and going through ledgers, peered at me over his glasses enquiringly. Gentlemen, believe me. I am not exactly a kid. But, when I come across things that I am crazy about, I am worse than one. I started jabbering that I love guns and wanted to see the guns etc. He gave me a kind and, more importantly, an unpatronising smile, got up from his chair and asked me to follow him. He took me to where the guns were kept for display. He asked me if I was interested in any particular models. I said, I wanted to see all the guns. He nodded his head again and started opening the showcases and handing me the guns one by one. I said what about the S0 series? Again the approving nod. He just started handing me those expensive objet d?arts as if he didn?t care if I would mishandle them. He patiently explained me about the SO series of shotguns. Those guns are so beautifully finished that the ?30,000+ price tags seemed very reasonable. As I ran amuck there wonderstruck, exclaiming shouts of joy and surprise, fondling and hefting those beautifully finished guns, he watched me with an indulgent smile. Finally, he took me to the area where assorted used guns were kept. The first thing that took my immediate fancy was the winsome little classic, the
6.5 x 54 mm Mannlicher-Schoenauer. As I shouldered it, it just locked onto the point wherever I aimed it. The bolt moved back and forth with silken smoothness. How I longed to take that rifle with me! It was priced at ?7000+, if I remember it.
As the time to take leave came, I remembered to ask my gentle guide of his name. He is the Director of the Beretta, London Gunroom, Mr. John Armiston! He could easily have ignored me, knowing fully well that I had no intention of buying anything from him. Instead, he spent more than an hour going around the gunroom with me with my juvenile questions. He even asked me to drop in whenever I was passing by. As, I thanked him profusely, I informed him that I am going to write about him on all the forums I am member of.
As I stood in front of the Holland and Holland?s establishment, I was undecided for a few minutes whether I could really enter those hallowed portals.I stood there in my jeans, sneakers and Tesco bought sweater, thinking of all the stories I read on various forums about the snobbery of the H&H people . As I stood there wondering, a Bentley drove past portentously signifying what was in store ahead.
With the experience at the Beretta still afresh, I suddenly made up my mind and walked into the rather dimly lit shop. The place was surprisingly unpopulated by any human populace save for the staff, which again were just three. The pleasant black girl at the anteroom, where all the clothing and accessories were displayed, welcomed me with a pleasant smile, led me into the gunroom. In the anteroom, there was a humungous head of a Rhno. On my way I saw this Labrador faithfully awaiting his master.
One of the two showroom executives, who were in an earnest discussion, just waved a bored hand affirmatively to my question if I could take a look around and take a few photographs. What can I say of the masterpieces caged inside those showcases? Each one was a beauty in its own right and each unlike the others. There were various side-by-sides, O/Us, double rifles and bolt rifles. Each one carrying a price tag that would stagger the faint of heart. As I spent, more time, I mustered up the courage to ask the thirtyish Executive, who now was sitting there alone looking into a folder, if I could handle any of those fine guns. His bored expression suddenly changed and he jumped from behind the counter. He started opening the cases and took out the beauties one by one. He explained each gun to me, who the engraver was, the features of that gun, some time who ordered that etc. One particular SXS in 20 bore was engraved by a young upcoming engraver who the Exec said would be one of the world?s top artists soon. That little gun moved in my hand as if it were a wand at the hands of a conductor of a gigantic orchestra at the London Philharmonic society. I think guns and I have a natural affiliation to each other. So far I haven?t mounted a gun that did not feel well.
Surprisingly, nestled among the finest bolt rifles was a Ruger in .300 calibre with a spectacular price tag of a paltry ?622. I mean no disrespect to Ruger, but, I couldn?t help wondering if it was kept there to accentuate the contrast in the quality of the H&H rifles.
Finally, he handed me a .470 Nitroexpress double rifle that perhaps was the epitome of perfection. The engraving on that rifle was slightly elaborate for my tastes, but the quality and the fit and finish were every bit I read everywhere and a bit more. You simply cannot find fault with them. Handling them makes you fully appreciate the meaning of what a London Best Gun stands for. That rifle carried a price of ?1,68,000! As I hefted the DB rifle to my shoulder and took aim, he, the Exec, with a twinkle in the eye, good naturedly taunted me, ?.. would like to order one?? I said as coolly, ?Why not? One day, for sure?. But, I honestly don?t think that I will ever shoot an Elephant or a Rhino or for that matter any of the Big Five of Africa just for sport. Owning and shooting a double rifle is a different matter.
The Exec and the sales girl both good naturedly waved at me as I took leave of them. I was pleasantly surprised at how friendly they were. The entire experience was surreal to me. I still can?t believe that I actually handled those masterpieces I have been reading and dreaming about for so long. If it did anything to me, I now fully appreciate what a London Best Gun stands for. Having said that, the Beretta SO series stand up in their own right. I am greatly elated for having gone through this experience, but filled with a great dissatisfaction that those fine guns are longing in the shops, instead of blazing in my hands afield. The next time, I would try to give reports from Purdey, Boss, AA Brown, WW Greener, Dickson- McNaughton etc. If possible, a report from the Birmingham Proof House.
Hope you have enjoyed this very long and tedious account of my pilgrimage. The camera used was a Canon Powershot S2 is. I was so tense that a lot of pics were out of focus and I did not realise that. My Panasonic Lumix FZ-20 would have done a great job I believe.
Best- Vikram
Firstly, apologies for this overly long and tedious account of my trip to London. But, we all have heard and read so much of London?s best guns and I wanted to capture what it is like at those famed gun shops. I wanted this to be my first post on Indiansforguns. I am truly happy that IFG is up and running.Thanks to Abhijeet, Mehul, Mack The Knife and others. Hope to post more frequently henceforth.
As I finally turned in a disaster of a research proposal, fit for an eminently possible rejection by my (im)personal tutor, I began to think of the ways of infusing some life into my rather unexciting existence in the regime academia. Then it suddenly struck me that I haven?t been to any of the famed gun makers of London. Though London is just two and half hours from Warwick University, I was too engrossed in meeting the demands of the course work and my nocturnal occupation of purveying intoxicating fluids to semi-juveniles at the residential taproom. I realised what an ass I have been all these days to not to have embarked upon that bounden pilgrimage of a true gun lover. Much as I wanted to kick myself in the southern aspect, certain anatomical incapacities inbuilt into the human body prevented me from accomplishing that feat. So, this weekend, I just upped and went to London. Yes Sir. So, I landed at the Victoria Station and stood looking lost much like a country yokel on his first visit to the Megapolis. I didn?t even plan the ways and means of reaching my destinations. Then a kind gentleman explained the tube system to me. I thanked him profusely, purchased the day saver ticket and hopped into the train. As I got out of the tube and started ambulating towards 33, Bruton Street, I came across this distinguished looking grumpy elderly gentleman, sauntering leisurely, with a distinct frown on his wrinkled visage, betraying a strong disapproval of the way Messrs Tony Blair (or Bliar- not a spelling mistake- as my friend Eug loves to write) has been managing the affairs of the realm at the nearby building, the Parliament.
Then as I was passing through 36, St James Street, I suddenly espied a familiar name, Beretta. Though not on my plan, I decided to take a peek into the shop. As I stepped into the gun room on the first floor, a middle aged gentleman of about 55, who looked more like a kind principal of a Kindergarten school, discussing things with a younger man and going through ledgers, peered at me over his glasses enquiringly. Gentlemen, believe me. I am not exactly a kid. But, when I come across things that I am crazy about, I am worse than one. I started jabbering that I love guns and wanted to see the guns etc. He gave me a kind and, more importantly, an unpatronising smile, got up from his chair and asked me to follow him. He took me to where the guns were kept for display. He asked me if I was interested in any particular models. I said, I wanted to see all the guns. He nodded his head again and started opening the showcases and handing me the guns one by one. I said what about the S0 series? Again the approving nod. He just started handing me those expensive objet d?arts as if he didn?t care if I would mishandle them. He patiently explained me about the SO series of shotguns. Those guns are so beautifully finished that the ?30,000+ price tags seemed very reasonable. As I ran amuck there wonderstruck, exclaiming shouts of joy and surprise, fondling and hefting those beautifully finished guns, he watched me with an indulgent smile. Finally, he took me to the area where assorted used guns were kept. The first thing that took my immediate fancy was the winsome little classic, the
6.5 x 54 mm Mannlicher-Schoenauer. As I shouldered it, it just locked onto the point wherever I aimed it. The bolt moved back and forth with silken smoothness. How I longed to take that rifle with me! It was priced at ?7000+, if I remember it.
As the time to take leave came, I remembered to ask my gentle guide of his name. He is the Director of the Beretta, London Gunroom, Mr. John Armiston! He could easily have ignored me, knowing fully well that I had no intention of buying anything from him. Instead, he spent more than an hour going around the gunroom with me with my juvenile questions. He even asked me to drop in whenever I was passing by. As, I thanked him profusely, I informed him that I am going to write about him on all the forums I am member of.
As I stood in front of the Holland and Holland?s establishment, I was undecided for a few minutes whether I could really enter those hallowed portals.I stood there in my jeans, sneakers and Tesco bought sweater, thinking of all the stories I read on various forums about the snobbery of the H&H people . As I stood there wondering, a Bentley drove past portentously signifying what was in store ahead.
With the experience at the Beretta still afresh, I suddenly made up my mind and walked into the rather dimly lit shop. The place was surprisingly unpopulated by any human populace save for the staff, which again were just three. The pleasant black girl at the anteroom, where all the clothing and accessories were displayed, welcomed me with a pleasant smile, led me into the gunroom. In the anteroom, there was a humungous head of a Rhno. On my way I saw this Labrador faithfully awaiting his master.
One of the two showroom executives, who were in an earnest discussion, just waved a bored hand affirmatively to my question if I could take a look around and take a few photographs. What can I say of the masterpieces caged inside those showcases? Each one was a beauty in its own right and each unlike the others. There were various side-by-sides, O/Us, double rifles and bolt rifles. Each one carrying a price tag that would stagger the faint of heart. As I spent, more time, I mustered up the courage to ask the thirtyish Executive, who now was sitting there alone looking into a folder, if I could handle any of those fine guns. His bored expression suddenly changed and he jumped from behind the counter. He started opening the cases and took out the beauties one by one. He explained each gun to me, who the engraver was, the features of that gun, some time who ordered that etc. One particular SXS in 20 bore was engraved by a young upcoming engraver who the Exec said would be one of the world?s top artists soon. That little gun moved in my hand as if it were a wand at the hands of a conductor of a gigantic orchestra at the London Philharmonic society. I think guns and I have a natural affiliation to each other. So far I haven?t mounted a gun that did not feel well.
Surprisingly, nestled among the finest bolt rifles was a Ruger in .300 calibre with a spectacular price tag of a paltry ?622. I mean no disrespect to Ruger, but, I couldn?t help wondering if it was kept there to accentuate the contrast in the quality of the H&H rifles.
Finally, he handed me a .470 Nitroexpress double rifle that perhaps was the epitome of perfection. The engraving on that rifle was slightly elaborate for my tastes, but the quality and the fit and finish were every bit I read everywhere and a bit more. You simply cannot find fault with them. Handling them makes you fully appreciate the meaning of what a London Best Gun stands for. That rifle carried a price of ?1,68,000! As I hefted the DB rifle to my shoulder and took aim, he, the Exec, with a twinkle in the eye, good naturedly taunted me, ?.. would like to order one?? I said as coolly, ?Why not? One day, for sure?. But, I honestly don?t think that I will ever shoot an Elephant or a Rhino or for that matter any of the Big Five of Africa just for sport. Owning and shooting a double rifle is a different matter.
The Exec and the sales girl both good naturedly waved at me as I took leave of them. I was pleasantly surprised at how friendly they were. The entire experience was surreal to me. I still can?t believe that I actually handled those masterpieces I have been reading and dreaming about for so long. If it did anything to me, I now fully appreciate what a London Best Gun stands for. Having said that, the Beretta SO series stand up in their own right. I am greatly elated for having gone through this experience, but filled with a great dissatisfaction that those fine guns are longing in the shops, instead of blazing in my hands afield. The next time, I would try to give reports from Purdey, Boss, AA Brown, WW Greener, Dickson- McNaughton etc. If possible, a report from the Birmingham Proof House.
Hope you have enjoyed this very long and tedious account of my pilgrimage. The camera used was a Canon Powershot S2 is. I was so tense that a lot of pics were out of focus and I did not realise that. My Panasonic Lumix FZ-20 would have done a great job I believe.
Best- Vikram
