Pick your Precious - September

An army kit bag - crammed full of letters.  Letters that start like this

 {My loving angel Val Darling! Thank you darling a million times for another lovely, loving letter, received with much delight this morning}

 

and end like this

 

 

{Always

With every ounce of love I have

from your devoted, adoring, ever loving husband}

 

Every single letter that was exchanged between my Mum and Dad during the war.  The letters tell a story of a chance meeting when my Dad was moved from London and stopped off in Essex en route to his new barracks.  A romance conducted over long distance; infrequent meetings dependent on where he was stationed; planning a wedding for when he was back on leave; waiting for the war to end to take their proper honeymoon.  Plans, hopes and dreams. Long letters; you can see how the ink has weakened in colour between first and last page as his pen emptied. Handwritten and saved for posterity.

 

I haven't read too many as they are clearly personal and I don't want to intrude into that.   But every now and again I will pull one out and read a few lines.  Glimpses into a world so very different to ours nowadays.

 

In a strange coincidence, the letter I picked out for this project was postmarked Edinburgh 1944 - whoever would have guessed that my son would end up living in the city where the grandfather he never met, and who he is named after, was stationed for a while almost 70 years ago?

This post is part of Sian's Storytelling Sunday series.  Pop over there and see what other precious items are being shared this month.

Picking my precious

My year seems to be measured not in months but the number of Picking my Precious posts and here we are with August's offering.  (For others pop over to Sian to see who is joining in this month)

So exhibit A is someone regular visitors will have met before ...

Penguin.  He attracts trouble like iron filings to a magnet.  He's been rescued from the jaws of a ferocious puppy and kidnapped at a scrapbooking crop to name just a couple of incidents.
When my sister and I were going through my mum's possessions after she died, we found penguin in a shopping bag.  Mum had died the week before Christmas so we assumed that she had bought him as a gift.  But who was he for?  My niece?  No, she was at university at that time and too 'cool' for a bean bag toy.  My daughter?  No, she was into all things Spice Girls and Take That, soft toys were no longer on her radar.  So we had to guess that he was for me.  I had a small collection of penguin items and I willingly took him under my wing.  He's lived in many areas of my home and is currently residing in my dining room, looking after the strawberry that Deb Turtle gave me and keeping his beady eye on the little turtle that Karen put on the bags of scrapbook goodies that she gave us when Deb, Carrie and Alison came over in March.  He's out of harms way up there, unless the dog learns to climb onto the sideboard.  And high enough that he can't get down on his own. 
My International 'Man' of Mystery - the infamous {precious} Penguin.  

Picking my July Precious

Now when I show you a picture of my precious this month, you are likely to raise your eyebrows in a quizzical way and mentally think 'Really?'  Oh yes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder!

So let me take you on a journey down memory lane.  It's the early 80s and we're newly weds.  We decide that we want to do something different to celebrate the New Year and so we have a word with our dear friends, Denise and 'himself', and arrange to stay at a hotel in Bournemouth for New Year's Eve.  We chose to go to Langtry Manor, historically the home of Lily Langtry, the mistress of King Edward VII.  It was an amazing place and they held a seven course banquet for New Year's Eve.  We had a brilliant time there and whilst exploring the area the following day, we popped into a craft shop where I bought this mug.

 

Now I'm not quite sure what appealed to me about it because it clearly wasn't the prettiest mug in the shop but let me tell you this, this mug makes the best cup of coffee in the world.  Not tea.  It's not a tea mug, that would have to be white china, it is most definitely a coffee mug.  And if ordinary coffee tastes very good in it, I can tell you that milky coffee tastes AMAZING.  It is the perfect size for holding between both hands and it keeps the drink hot for ages.  When I am feeling poorly and fancy something comforting - this is the mug that has to be used.  And no one else uses this mug.  No one.  The handle is too small for manly hands and for some reason it has always been known as 'Mum's Mug'.  It's the one I instantly pick when I come home from work, and the favourite one for mid morning coffee.   My daughter asked me a very scary and thought provoking question the other day: 'Whatever will you do if you ever break that mug Mum? Eeek!!

Pick your precious

I was trying to figure out what to pick for my precious this month and then when I was writing the post for Cate's Baby Shower, I suddenly knew what to choose.  I'm sure everyone knows that this is part of the monthly project organised by Sian, but just in case - pop over here and see who else is taking part!

This is a silver locket that used to be in my mum's jewellery box.  I never saw her wear it, and there is no chain attached but it was something that I loved to look at when I was little and was allowed to rummage through her jewellery.

In it you will see a photo of little Deb and little Gillian.  There's also a lock of hair.   Now, I don't know whose hair it is or why there is only one person's curl but the detective in me has looked at the evidence and has come to the conclusion that it's my sister's.  You see my hair was as straight as the proverbial poker, hers had a slight curl at the ends.  At that age my hair was horrible  ginger and my sister's was brown and clearly mine isn't the sample found in the locket.  I wonder if somewhere along the line, my lock of hair got lost or if an inquisitive young girl may have removed the evidence of just how ginger she was.
You see my mum would always tell me that I had lovely coloured hair (well she would, wouldn't she? a) she was my mum and b) she had the same colour!  But I just wanted to be the same as everyone else.  I didn't want people commenting on how lovely it shone in the sunshine or how glossy it was.  I wanted to be mousey brown.  She told me that as years went by, it would change and darken and she was right.  By the time I was a teenager it was what you call auburn.  I still wanted to colour it.  But my mum told me (and I think she was stretching the truth somewhat) that ginger hair did not take hair dye well and it may end up orange.  Orange?!  I didn't want to risk that so I kept my auburn hair and as I matured I grew into liking being different to everyone else.  So what did mother nature do to get her own back on me for moaning about it for years on end?  Just as I grew proud of it, she started to turn some of those auburn hairs grey.  I shouldn't have complained should I?  Thank goodness for highlights!

Pick your precious - May

Earlier this week - So it's coming up for sharing something precious for Sian's monthly series of Pick your Precious.  What on earth am I going to choose this month?  Oh, it's lovely driving into work on a sunny day.  Driving down the attractively named 'Pig Lane', past the riding stables, horses gently grazing in the fields, trees just coming out in leaf.  The gardens of the cottages are looking lovely as the first bursts of colour appear in the flower beds. 

 

Concentrate Deb, you're supposed to be thinking of something precious to share.  Singing along to the music on the cd.  My goodness I'm tuneful today, my version of No Doubt's 'Don't Speak' has never sounded so good.  I could probably audition for The Voice.  But then which team should I join because clearly all four would turn round.  Tom's a bit old, even for me, and whilst I do like Jessie J, I don't think I'm 'street' enough for her.  So, it's between Will.i.am and Danny. You know what?  I think I'm going to go for Will.i.am. The song moves on to Maroon 5 as I join the main road for the final part of my journey.  Need to think of something precious.  Pull into parking spot.  Turn off engine.  Remove disc from CD player.  And realise I have found my Precious.

 

So this month my precious is a compilation cd that my children made me for Mother's Day years ago.  I asked Rachel what year it was and we think it was about 2002.  It's a mix of songs that were in the charts at that time that I loved, some oldies that are classics and some whose titles were appropriate.  It's absolutely priceless to me and guarantees to put a smile on my face and a tune on my lips.  They put a lot of thought and time into getting it absolutely right and it's worth more to me than all my other cds put together.

They shared the design of the case.  Jon did the inside

 And the cover

 Rachel was given the job of the contents list.  I'll just take a photo of that too.  I've set up a backdrop on the bed to take the photo against.  Get off the bed Coco, I'm trying to take a photo.  Yes I know it looks interesting but I just need you to stay with all four paws on the floor for just a moment.  Off.  Get off.  How many times do I have to tell you?  The sooner you get off the bed, the sooner my photo will be taken and you can get back up there. Good Girl.  Now just stay there while I set the cd case in place again.  That's it, balanced perfectly, now let me pick up my camera again.  Hang on a minute, where's that dog gone?

  Sigh. 

Pick your Precious - April

Jamie Oliver? Nigella Lawson? Delia Smith? Oh yes I am an avid collector of their cookery books and you will find all their names in my bookshelves. But when I want something classic, tried and tested, this is the book to which I turn.

 

Now it's not new and it's definitely not fancy and there is no way I would ever go into a bookstore and buy the newest edition so I could throw this one away.  This cookery book was given to me by my mum as an engagement present. I loved cooking but back in those olden days, there weren't many celebrity chefs bringing out books and I relied on my O level cookery recipes and Mum's family recipes.  This book has very few photos in it, a few black and white lined drawings, splashes and spillages all over it and every classic recipe you could ever need.  It's from Good Housekeeping and when I received it, it had a green hardcover with gold lettering on it.   There was a colourful paper sleeve around it too, but that fell to pieces many years ago.  Now it has a tatty front cover piece of card and the index pages have fallen out of the binding and are attached to the main book by a piece of ribbon.  Interleaved in the pages are comments, hints that Mum passed onto me and instructions like 'might not need to add so much liquid next time'.  In there too are a few handwritten recipes that my Mum gave me, like her recipe for meringues. Some of the handy hints she scribbled alongside these notes make me smile so much as they probably made sense to her at the time, but they're not always so clear to anyone else now!  But along with those smiles is a little pang of sadness that she's not here for me to say 'What on earth does that mean?!'  No mention is made of microwaves, recipes are shown in lbs and oz first and those new fangled metric equivalents in brackets.  This is 'proper old school' as my kids would say.

But it's precious.  It was my first recipe book, and given from mum to daughter as I embarked on proper grown up married life, and no other cookery book will ever take its place.  It's not a very traditional heirloom but my kids know that this is one cookery book that must never be thrown away.

This post is part of Sian's monthly blog post - be sure to swing by there and see what other people are choosing this month.

 

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My mystery precious

There's part of me that loves a mystery and part of me that really wishes I understood what secrets the mystery holds.  When I was growing up, my Mum's dressing table held such an attraction for me.  I would climb up on the velvet cushioned stool, carefully pick up the hairbrush, mirror and comb set that always sat in the middle.  A beautiful set, with Chinese patterned satin covered by a layer of filigree golden coloured metal.  I would carefully brush my hair - gazing into the tri-fold mirror that was on top of the dressing table, checking my appearance from front and both sides.  Having made my hair as glamorous as I could, my attention would turn to the other bits and pieces on the table top.  A bottle of perfume, pots of creams and lotions, and a few trinkets.  I now have a selection of these at home and all qualify for the title of 'precious'.

For February, I will share one of these that holds a mystery.  It's a little leather covered chest, about 3" tall and 4" wide.  Inside is a collection of things.  Buttons from clothes that I remember her wearing, a couple of brooches and then these things ...

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 A commemorative coin for the Coronation in 1952, and a five shilling piece from the same year.  A cutting from a local newspaper, which turns out to be the obituary from when her grandmother died, a few months after I was born.  A key. What do you think this opens?  We never found anything that it fitted but it was kept safe so it must have some significance.  Then the little white leather pouch.  The softest leather you can imagine, held with a silver popper on the back.  Gold writing that indicates it comes from a jewellers in Burlington Arcade London W1.  Something very special must have come in there. You would imagine that it had once held a precious ring.   But open it up and you will see tht inside it is a little brown stone.  With a perfectly formed hole in the corner.  Where had it come from?  Who found it and gave it to my my mum?  Why was it kept in such a special place?  It obviously held some special memories to her but it was story she never told, and will now remain a mystery for ever more.

A random piece of stone, but something far too precious to throw away.  
This is part of Sian's Pick your Precious series.  Head on over there to see what other stories people are sharing.  

Picking my January Precious

Oh the tales this telephone could tell.  The stories and secret that have been spoken into it.  The laughter and the tears it has shared.  Memories by the million.  

For this is the telephone that my family used all of my growing up life.  Mum and Dad refused to update it even after it had gone out of fashion and the telephone company said they wanted to take it away and give them a plastic one with a plastic lead.  Now they are collectors items and I am so grateful that Mum and Dad kept it.  I spent a lot of my teenage years sitting in the hallway on the velvet chair which is now at the top of my stairs and next to the table that this telephone now stands on.  Curled up in the cushions, twiddling the cord between my fingers as I confided news and shared gossip with my friends.  

When I was little, our telephone number had just four numbers to it, then the 3 at the front became 29 and then in latter years a 4 was added to it and it became the normal six digit number.  The numbers are still visible, written on the little circle of card in the middle of the dial.  Just beneath the printed information to remind you to call 999 for Fire, Police or Ambulance and 100 for the operator.  Hand written by my dad, the ink is faded now, but this is still a tiny, tangible part of him, and still very precious.

At Christmas, the young children in our family were enthralled by the phone.  The weight of it in their little hands, the effort it took to put their tiny fingers into the silver holes of the dial and turn it.  The noise it made as it whirled back into position.  They had never come across a phone like this before.  

So, January 2013, I have 'picked my precious' - now please pop over to Sian's blog to share other people's precious possessions.