Thursday, December 07, 2006

It was slender

rather than grotesque, but I was obsessed with my Swiss Army knife when I was a kid, and Andrew Martin's charming essay "Call that a knife?" in the Guardian reminds me why. (Thanks to Neil's journal for the link.)


  1. We got knives at our Junior Ring ceremony, small ones, but I lost mine. Then my sister got me one for Christmas five or six years ago and I've still got it - although it's a bit dented from that time I used it as a hammer.


  2. On a trip to Europe in 1975, my parents left me (I was 5) with an aunt and uncle in Paris while they went to Switzerland by themselves. After a week my parents returned with several Swiss Army knives. Not thinking, they left me alone in a room with these shiny new red knives, and within a few seconds I had shredded my hands. I've been obsessed with Victorinox ever since.