My grandpa was a blacksmith and we spend many hours in his workshop watching those gigantic hands an fore arms almost playing with the redhot metal while sparks were flying. He had a similar anvil and would pick it up one handed when he was about to loose his temper. Those were the days in the fifties....
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LOL! Great story and thanks so much for sharing @route45 Oh my, one hand! I was around a blacksmith for one day and I still remember the smell...amazing what you remember.