I like the French word “souvenir” as it can mean both a memory, and the thing that creates a memory
What mementoes do you have around your house of times or people goneby?
I’m very bad at getting rid of “stuff” because so many things remind me of people or places. I read in one of those “declutter your life” articles that one could take photos of the things, and then throw them away. That way, one has the memory, whenever you look at the photo, without having the clutter – but somehow that seems heartless.
Here are just some of the things that I can see as I sit at my computer and look around:
- a tiny painted cockerel, bought as a souvenir of our holiday in Portugal
- Two other painted cockerels, sent to me by my Godson, from his working holiday in Columbia
- A heart shaped stone, bought (with one exactly the same) on Puy de Dome. One for me, one for Mr FD on the ocassion of our 30th Wedding Anniversary
- A painted stone, painted on Iona when I went with a group from church, and my Godson,in 1999
- A beautiful painting brought back from the Holy Land by my mum
- A desk mat, with the French verbs “etre” and “avoir”, and the English “to have” and “to be” conjugated and illustrated, given to me when friends from the UK came to visit
- A “selfie” of my colleagues at Lines in 2015 – framed as a gift from David, our Head of Department
- A Victorian opal-and-semi precious stone ring that I wear every day, which belonged to “Auntie”Cynthia, a good friend of my parents.
- myriad postcards and cards stuck on the wall and doors, each with messages of love and support from various people all over the world.
I would hate to throw these things away. When I look at them I smile and, however fleetingly, remember those who gave them to me, or the places where I bought them.
And the blanket in the picture?
That was crocheted for me by my Nana, using scraps of wool from all the jumpers she would knit for me, my brother and sister, and other relatives. She made this for my bed round about 1972. It went with me to college, to my first digs in Maidstone, to the house share in London, and it has been in every one of my houses in my married life. Every time I sit with it on my lap, or over the bed, I think of my Nana. I can even identify one or two of the wools used, and say which garments they were from. (For example, the red/yellow/green/blue self-striping wool on the right hand side was from the yoke of a mostly white jumper that I wore when I was about 9 or 10) It is remarkably precious, even though it is starting to fall apart, and is one thing I would NOT be throwing away!
Do you have any souvenirs that you would never part with?
