I've been picking and top-and-tailing gooseberries- which takes me right back to childhood. How old was I was I when I was given a paring knife and told to get on with it- eight or nine, perhaps? Younger anyway than would happen with my grandchildren I think. My parents generation was blase about blades. Small boys had sheath knives; I had two. I could have killed someone with them- but I didn't.
I had penknives too. I can remember carving my school desk.