They wanted to go to the beach, to fill pockets with pebbles, throw lines out to sea, forget the week’s troubles and muse trivia. They wanted to cook silver scaled mackerel and lie back, warmed with plum brandy, to watch a fiery sun swap places with a heavy moon. Their plans were thwarted by gunmetal clouds and cold, poking rain. They would not be beaten and so friends came with food and the simple picnic was eaten around the table of stories and they listened and they were sure they heard them … the waves, the gulls.
The next day they were desperate for fresh air and so they took the little man to play a strange game of golf … it was crazy. He loved it and beat Mr who became more competitive and determined to win the next game … and did.
For treasure festing, it was not good, but a handful of good things came home with them, to hopefully be sold and put some more pennies in the purse. A few made it to the camera ...
Lovely wooden box with bent wooden handle, originally black with grime but now lovingly restored to a deep chestnut colour
… and just look at the mirror, made by Grandpa, from an old half porthole window …
… it perfectly matches the full porthole window he made for them a few years ago. He made it for her to sell, but she thinks it may have to stay.
The olivewood stanhope rosary adorning the mirror was a present to her from Mr many years ago and if you peek long and hard into the stanhope viewer you will see views of Paris (she has to look very long and very hard as her eyesight is not what it used to be!).
She has been living a life filled with buttons for days and the last of them are now filling jars to the brim, adorned with ribbons and buckles and haberdashery frippery.
She has her fingers crossed for some good news this week.