Blurry eyed and muddled, I was trying to make a coffee this morning without getting it all over the bench, when the magnetic knife holder on the wall caught my eye. The collection of knives hanging there immediately began telling me grand stories that recalled luscious memories to enliven my day.

On the left, a small hunting knife, made especially for me while I waited, by a small village blacksmith in Russia. I really wanted a set of carving knives but, with my Russian language restricted to grunting and drawing in the sand floor and his English limited to enthusiastic nodding and smiling, somehow it was all translated into a small, useless-in-the-kitchen, hunting knife made with such enthusiasm and pride that I just have to love it.

Next to that is a hand-made Turkish knife, a gift from a grateful supplier In the city of Bursa to celebrate our fifteenth year of doing business. It is a constant reminder of the trials and joys of forging long lasting and trusting business relationships despite language and cultural barriers and as a result, becoming life-long friends, sharing children’s weddings and grandchildren’s arrivals together.

The tall one, number three, is the most expensive, and of Japanese origin. It was purchased in San Francisco on the occasion of my fourth daughter’s wedding. I had tried to dissuade her husband from taking her from me, telling him how difficult she could be and how she needed much more training before she would make a good wife. But he wouldn’t listen and they now live very happily in the USA, while we remain here waiting on her weekly Tuesday afternoon call. I can never see that knife without recalling that day and their enormous love for each other.

Next is Aunty Mary’s bone-handled carving knife. Aunty Mary was the family’s memory and teller of tales, though her siblings swore she made it all up. She never missed anyone’s birthday, with a book and a box of chocolates for all 18 of her nieces and nephews. She was so special to us all that the entire family got together last year to celebrate her 100th birthday, 17 years after she had passed.

Numbers five and seven were made for me by Skalidakis on the surprising and magical island of Crete. I knew nothing of the island, or of some  New Zealanders’ heroic defence of it in W.W.2 before I visited. Nor was I aware of the great passion that the people had for Kiwis as a result. I spent the entire time there having my eyes opened to stories of bravery, cruelty, heroism and enduring love. A glance at this pair is a fond reminder.

Lastly, my absolute favourite. Number six in the line-up is a knife made by my grandfather, a blacksmith from Raetihi, for my parents’ wedding gift. Mum never really liked it and, finding it too heavy and aggressive-looking for the kitchen, she kept it in the garden shed and used it to trim the lawn edges where they met the concrete path. Just handling it brings back memories of my grandfather, Mum and Dad, and a wonderful childhood.

There are many more knives at home that didn’t make the “cut” this morning, each with its own story. I think it wonderful that such everyday items can bring such diverse memories and such joy to our lives.

Here at Redgraves Home Fabrics we have many, many fabrics whose story we can  share with you; from the designer and artist to the manufacturer and machinist, these are the stories that can make your new furnishings tell everlasting tales for you.

We have spent more than 60 years helping clients create the home environment they imagine, with beautiful drapes, blinds and accessories. Many of the products we sell are exclusively imported for our clients and not available anywhere else.

Call us today for a consultant to visit and help you create your own stories with your window furnishings and accessories. Or check us out at www.redgraveshomefabrics.co.nz