- Joined
- Sep 9, 2000
- Messages
- 181
Well, the other day my first ever khukuri arrived. It's a WW11 with the aluminium handle. I think it's the most elegant knife I've ever seen, let alone handled and used (yes, already!). It takes me back to when I was a kid. My dad was in the air force we were based in Singapore. This was about the time of the so-called 'emergency', and my dad was engaged in transporting troops from Singapore to Borneo to fight the dreaded enemies of imperialism! He made a particular friend, who's name now evades me who was a Major in a Ghurka Regiment. He used to visit us at home when not fighting. He must have been a key player, because everywhere he went he took three Ghurka's with him as a bodyguard.
These guys fascinated me, they were so charming and patient (with a thirteen year old kid) and full of fun. One thing, however left me a little disappointed: they would NOT let me fart around with their khukuri's! They would let me look, they would show me the power behing the khuk (I remember one of them dropping a banana tree, about a foot thick with one slice!), but there was no way I could get my hands on it to play with! Ahh, the impetousness of youth. I took my thirteen year old son out with me and attacked some saplings, bushes and scrub with my new knife. The memories of my Ghurka pals rushed back to me when young Rob asked to have a shot at a tree with it... I've told him he can wait until I'm dead, then it is his, before he can touch it. My standards are so high they must be double anyone elses! Or are they just double standards?
These guys fascinated me, they were so charming and patient (with a thirteen year old kid) and full of fun. One thing, however left me a little disappointed: they would NOT let me fart around with their khukuri's! They would let me look, they would show me the power behing the khuk (I remember one of them dropping a banana tree, about a foot thick with one slice!), but there was no way I could get my hands on it to play with! Ahh, the impetousness of youth. I took my thirteen year old son out with me and attacked some saplings, bushes and scrub with my new knife. The memories of my Ghurka pals rushed back to me when young Rob asked to have a shot at a tree with it... I've told him he can wait until I'm dead, then it is his, before he can touch it. My standards are so high they must be double anyone elses! Or are they just double standards?
