The Excitement of Discovering an Antique

The appeal of such a gift was brought home to me by accident. A few years ago, I was clearing out my parent's basement and I found a small, unassuming pot, wrapped in yellowing newspaper lying in the bottom of a shoebox. Although the lid of the shoebox was in the early stages of being eaten by mould, the pot it contained still shone when I held it up to the light. I'm a big coffee drinker, so I immediately took it upstairs and set it on the kitchen counter. A little later that day, my aunt, who is an avid antique's collector who describes herself as one step away from becoming a bonafide dealer, dropped by. She let out a gasp as she entered the kitchen. I thought she was affronted by the mess everywhere - the coffee pot wasn't the only thing that I'd dumped in the kitchen during my tidy-up. However, she strode across the kitchen and reached for the antique coffee pot. She lifted it and turned it in the light as though examining a precious jewel.

Antiques are no Joking Matter

I jokingly told her that I'd been thinking of throwing it out. Boy, was that a mistake. I got a lecture that would have had a hardened gangster calling for his mummy. She explained that she had been looking for such a pot ever since she had been out-bidded for one at a local antiques fair. For her, this small antique coffee pot was nothing less than an object of desire.

A Little Charmer

While I knew how much she loved old kitchen items like dry sinks, porcelain wash basins and wooden coffee grinders, I had no idea that she would go quite so weak at the knees over an antique coffee pot. Of course I have seen many coffee carafes over the years but none of them ever looked like this one. This particular antique coffee pot was not made of glass. I assumed its casing was of flawless stainless steel. A handle, just large enough to get three fingers through, stuck out of the side like an overgrown ear. The whole ensemble looked a little unbalanced, and more than a little comical. It was, however, oozing with charm.

The Moment of Truth

My aunt went on to tell me that what I had found in the basement was a genuine antique coffee pot. It was a piece of High Victoriana, from the last decade of the nineteenth century. What I had taken to be stainless steel was silver. My aunt showed me where the pot bore the hallmarks of the Goldsmiths Company of London.

The True Owner

I was impressed that my aunt even knew what such an unassuming, apparently everyday object was. I was also a bit disapointed. As I've already mentioned, I'm a devoted coffee drinker, and I'd already started fantasizing about how I could use this small coffee pot for decadent solo coffee drinking whenever I had the house to myself. Now, however, it was clear who the rightful owner should be. My aunt. Her description had brought the history of the to life, and as we settled down to savour the first of many brews from the pot we reflected on the lives of those who had handled this pots and others like it in the dark kitchens of Victorian London. Later on that afternoon, handing the coffee pot over to my aunt was reward in itself. She was over the moon. And every time I visit her she makes sure that I'm served my own pot of coffee from a certain highly polished, highly cherished silver antique coffee pot.