Trinkets

The word "trinket" is a noun, I'm reliably informed,

and covers a whole host of things from small ornaments to

little items of jewellery.  

A momento of my first meeting with my daughter in law
Dr Suze - a little chair made from a champagne cork cradle.

Generally speaking these objects have little or no monetary

value but nearly always carry some deep, intrinsic link

with our past.  They're little reminders of someone or

something that we simply can't bear to part with.

That's probably why the chest of drawers was invented if

mine is anything to go by as it's stuffed with the bloody

things, each with their own story to tell.

A pin cushion bear made by son when he was eight.

Some people like to make their way down Memory Lane

via old photos which is perhaps the least hazardous route

to take but that's not for me.  I'm usually far too busy

trying to avoid injury from falling bits and pieces I've

collected over the years that leap out of cupboards at me

or trying not to break anything in an attempt to gain

access to my books.

Plastic greyhound who lives in my kitchen cupboard.

Such is the lot of the hoarder, the collector of small,

emotionally charged objects, the magpies amongst us

of which I am one.  I think of myself as a closet Victorian

not because I try to hide from others my attachment to

small bits and bobs - au contraire - just simply because

they're all in the closet.

The wooden dog with two tails (both now broken)
who lives in the stone with a hole in the conservatory.

The Victorians invented "souvenirs" and have a lot to answer for!

They had wonderful words for them like knick-knack,

bauble, gewgaw, gimcrack.  They even created cabinets

especially to house all their curios.  How dedicated is that?

A hairey ring if you'll pardon the expression.

But where they really excelled in their passion for personal

reminders was the momento mori, or mourning jewellery,

so packed with symbolism and stuffed full of dead hair

just like their lumpy mattresses.

Ada's sunflower

I have nothing quite so macabre but do still hang on to a

worthless little marquesite sunflower that my Victorian Granny

Hendriks always wore.  I have to admit that I didn't much care

for old Ada and when I see her pendant each morning hanging

from a vase on my dressing table I can still hear her

saying to my mother, "That child's much too flibberty gibbet

to have the patience to sew!"

Well swivel on this Granny, how wrong you were!

An old cotton reel made by my grandad next to a
picture of my father which both live in the bookcase.