Memory Box

The beautiful mugs I got for my birthday came in an equally beautiful box.

I decided to put some special mementos in it.  The cardboard box on top is a 21st birthday card from my Mum and Dad, the menu cards are from the 50th birthday trip R took me on to Venice on the Orient Express.  There are loads of other silly things – a collar from our cat Schrodi with his name on it, a bottle opener from a conference we sponsored in London, a picture of my Gran inside a plastic key ring with Blackpool Tower on it.   All sorts of things.

What it does not contain is a diary I kept for a year when I was 17.  I did hold on to it for many years, but some time about 15 years ago I realized that I was never going to have the moral courage to open it and read what a nauseating pretentious twat I was then, so I put it in the bin.  I sort of wish I had kept it now because after all, everyone is a twat when they are 17.