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- Mar 28, 2015
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Last week my partner mentioned to me that she had visited my parents and that my father, who had been to stay with my sick grandmother, had something for me. "What's that then?" I asked, "your grandad's pocket knife" she replied, adding that "...it looked well used", but she thought I was gonna like it anyway. I tell you I couldn't wait to get around there this Sunday to collect it. I haven't really got anything of my grandad's and, lets face it, what better memento could there be. Now my grandparents were born before the war and, like many of their generation, they embraced the post war modernity of the 50's and 60's. To them why anyone would want anything from those dark days before the war was an anathema. So I was expecting something from the latter half of the 20th century. I didn't care, it had belonged to my grandad and that's all that mattered. What I received seemed to be much older than what I had expected. "this belonged to your grandad, he always had it on him...I think he got it from his dad" my father remarked unceremoniously as he handed it to me. Whoa! this was fantastic, even better than I could have imagined.
Now this Knife is what we around these parts would describe as 'knackered'. It's jigged bone scales are rubbed flat and it's blade is worn and sharpened to less than half of it's original width, though it retains much of it's blade length. But for me it bears the wear and patina of the lives of two manual workers, father and son, who earned their livelihoods and raised their families amidst hard times in the east end of London. I could not be prouder to own it. The rest of that afternoon was spent with my parents in happy conversation, recounting fond memories of family members from the good old days. The knife now occupies pride of place within my collection and is for me, undoubtedly, the one that means the most.
My great grandfather is in the larger photograph below, with my great grandmother, and my grandfather in the smaller one in his beloved shed.
Untitled by Mark Saunders, on Flickr
Untitled by Mark Saunders, on Flickr
Untitled by Mark Saunders, on Flickr
Now this Knife is what we around these parts would describe as 'knackered'. It's jigged bone scales are rubbed flat and it's blade is worn and sharpened to less than half of it's original width, though it retains much of it's blade length. But for me it bears the wear and patina of the lives of two manual workers, father and son, who earned their livelihoods and raised their families amidst hard times in the east end of London. I could not be prouder to own it. The rest of that afternoon was spent with my parents in happy conversation, recounting fond memories of family members from the good old days. The knife now occupies pride of place within my collection and is for me, undoubtedly, the one that means the most.
My great grandfather is in the larger photograph below, with my great grandmother, and my grandfather in the smaller one in his beloved shed.
Untitled by Mark Saunders, on FlickrUntitled by Mark Saunders, on FlickrUntitled by Mark Saunders, on Flickr
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That knife has certainly been well-loved 
