my kalashnikov
I have a Kalashnikov. Yes, that's correct, you didn't misread that. I. Have. A. Kalashnikov. I keep it in the kitchen cos well I never know when I might fancy taking it out and admiring its clean simple lines, functionality and beauty.
And how did I get my hands on such a treasure? Well from the daddy of all things kalashnikov, from the General himself. Mikhail and I shared a couple of shots one evening. He is quite by far the most enigmatic and most humble person I ever met and left me with more than his clever invention for memories.
I've been reading several reviews lately of a new book about the AK-47 and its impact on the world. Beloved of armies, guerillas, terrorists and Quentin Tarantino characters, when you absolutely, positively gotta kill everyone in the room, the AK-47 is your only weapon of choice.
Most people know the history of how Mikhail Kalashnikov came to invent his deadly weapon, a weapon that also fires underwater, and the new book claims he wished he'd invented a lawnmower instead.
But on a cold day in London, in full Russian dress uniform, the most gentle of human beings, slightly bewildered by the all fuss being made of him, spoke about the mother of all necessity - survival. Mr Kalashnikov has been an inventor all his life - he invented a vodka glass for the Russian navy that would never tip over, not even on the highest of seas - and lately in his old age and not exactly the richest man in Siberia inspite of all his achievements - he put his name to a brand of vodka.
This is not a paean to a weapon but to the man I met. I have a wonderful photograph showing the moment when he, surrounded by photographers, saw me trying to sneak a photo of him on my phone and reached out to me. The photograph I have was taken by one of the snappers present and given to me later as a surprise gift. The General and I are laughing and look like we're down the pub having a few swift vodkas...which technically we were.
But that evening, at a party given in his honour, I received his favourite invention. The one that people can't resist touching, can't resist trying to defeat. Everytime I take my Kalashnikov out of the cupboard and fill it with Russia's finest, I think of that humble, honourable man and how I'd been lucky enough to meet a whole lot of history in one person.
Russian toasts are notoriously long and sentimental, he said, and once you open a bottle it must be finished. So even when I'm completely whacked on vodka, I'll never spill a drop, thanks to my Kalashnikov.