Kitchen knives

2011 is an exciting year for my parents because they are finally getting rid of me. At the grand old age of 26, I am being turfed out of the family home and into a flat of my very own. Once I'd got over the shock that I would have to do all of my own cooking (having been under the impression that my mother would accompany me and live in the cupboard under the stairs, emerging three times a day to prepare my meals), I realised that this traumatic discovery came with its own set of benefits; namely that I would be able to decorate the kitchen - and rest of the flat - entirely to my own taste.

Now I am notoriously superstitious and it occurs to me that buying household objects in advance of completion is probably deeply unlucky, but it's tough when they appear out of thin air and start jumping up and down on your head shouting "I WAS MADE FOR YOU TO OWN ME". Much like these stunning little blighters:

I discovered them whilst investigating presents for other people (isn't that always the way?) on Firebox and immediately fired off an email to my mother which read along the lines of "MINE".

If you've never bought anything off Firebox, do it now. Anybody with more money than sense needs to check out What The Firebox?! for an array of exotic objects ranging from an enormous gumball machine to an actual private jet. If you didn't win the EuroMillions (or you did, but you've already got a see-through pool table and a replica Batmobile) then just have a mosey around the rest of their wares. I think of Firebox as a superior replacement to the long-defunct Gadget Shop; my one-stop destination as a teenage girl for sourcing affordable presents for family members who I didn't really know or understand particularly well, like my dad and brother. Firebox is even better. Not only is the P&P free but they also chuck in a bag of sweets with every order. The first time I thought it was a mistake. The second time I wrapped them up with the present for the doubly-appreciative recipient. After that I decided to stop being so bloody generous and started hoarding them for myself.

There are an awful lot of amazing gift ideas on this website, both for others and your own personal Christmas list. I'm a particular fan of the s-shaped brownie tray and the gigantic edible gummi bear but neither of these fit this blog's criteria (the former being highly covetable for baking fans but not particularly attractive, and the latter being . . . well, a giant gummi bear, so utterly useless really but nonetheless delightful. I mean, it's a giant gummi bear. Who doesn't want one of those?). But those knives are both fun to look at and great quality as well. At £20 for a set of five, they're neither Ikea nor Sabatier but they are increasingly popular and for good reason, it seems. There's no serrated knife for tomatoes but there is a breadknife and four other assorted sizes which cover all bases. They are shamelessly bright and fun and almost entirely painted but for a tiny sliver of silver metal along the blade itself, allowing them to be sharpened without risk to the colourful non-stick coating.

Unfortunately I neglected to take my own advice and unlike my previous post, did no research whatsoever; had I done so, I would have discovered that they also come in a handy perspex knife block like this one. Fail. So as to avoid them gathering dust with the wooden spoons, I am planning on attaching a magnetic knife rack to one of the more visible kitchen walls and (carefully) sticking them back up post-chop/slice/saw so as to maximise their usage; these are not the sort of knives that one can wilfully stick in a drawer.

And in the future, when I start having people over for dinner and entertaining out of choice (rather than as payback for all of the favours that I will no doubt be calling in over the next few months), and on top of that become sophisticated enough to shove in a cheese platter after the coq au vin and the Black Forest Gateau, I shall consider adding these to my collection.

Buy the knives for £19.99 on their own, or for £34.99 with the Perspex block. Feeling flash? Fork out (haha) £12.99 for the cheesey four-piece as well.