Just Some Thoughts

I took the luxury of giving myself a look into my memory box yesterday. I found the little mouse with pink stones which dad bought me on our first trip to Eastbourne - way back in 1966. What a day that was. High up on Beachy Head, mum's green and yellow sari ballooned like a parachute and we were really scared she would be lifted up. Two little stones are missing, but the little is still so precious. What will happen to little mouse after I've gone?

Look at the pretty ceramic floral brooch which dad bought for me when I was 16. I rinsed it out and it looks beautiful. Maybe my granddaughter would like it.

Memories and objects so precious to us, mean nothing to some one else who doesn't share our history.