Before I explain the reason for the spoons there are a few other things I want to say first.
It was good, really good to hear what you had to say about my malaise, thank you for your kind words of wisdom. I'll try to be good and give the Vit D a try as a bit of inbuilt sunshine would be a very good thing indeed. I agree that Spring needs to be sprung. Instead we've bounced backwards and so we've a heavily flooded garden covered with snow instead.
On Friday I squeezed a bit of energy out of my poorly sneezy self to do a simple sewing job. Not a planned thing at all. I was searching for a warm cardi and grabbed one that had hung there unworn for a couple of years or more. A long coat cardi in a shade of blue I love, a top half style that I really like, but sadly in a length that just doesn't cut the mustard with me anymore.
Quick as a flash I'd chopped the bottom to a length that meant I'd be wearing it again and added a cream trim around the edge to make sure it was a perfectly new to me cardigan. A very quick and pleasing thing to do. I used to chop so many things in the past to renew them. It feels good and is easy to do because if it goes wrong all I have to say is so what as I wasn't wearing the darned thing anyways.
Zooming forward to Saturday morning which found my Mr and I hanging out together in the pouring rain in our woodshed. I'd completely forgotten I'd ordered logs. That was a thrilling surprise when we were hanging out all cosy in our beddy byes. Warm to wet and muddy in the blink of an eye.
Then very very late at night, last minute as usual I decided to make a floral garland for my mum. That explains the grainy pictures at least. No photo of the finished string I'm afraid. Mum loved it and her other gifts so worth the late night. Only a few hours sleep allowed and then we were up at 7am and off to get Miss Rosey to her netball trials before lunch at my mums. All worthwhile though as she qualified for the squad so that means netball all next weekend too. Thankfully I now have a very handy new taking making stuff with me bag.
At last we get to the spoons. My dad's family spoons actually. Dad was a hoarder, but he didn't talk as much as he could have done about the stories surrounding all the stuff he kept. He wasn't a man to talk more than needed, but would tell me what I wanted to know when I asked. So many of his families things were lost when my aunt failed to pay the storage costs on a lot of it. Dad also rolled up paintings and just burnt them. They were probably quite good paintings, but then we'll never know will we. There are snippets of stories of so many different people. I try to link them all together and say one day I'll research more and attempt to fill in the gaps. These are all my stories as they come from my dad who was real to me. I'm not linked to any of the people in these stories by blood, but I feel linked to them by my love of stories and the past. I'm linked to them by my love for my dad and my need to belong to something.
Mum came across a bag of spoons and forks the other day. She mentioned dad's christening spoon and asked if I'd like it. Well all of us four are an inquisitive bunch so Miss Rosey rushed off to get the bag. I've never understood people who collect spoons as a hobby, but these were something else. These spoons and forks told unfinished tales of people I know or have heard of. There's my dad's spoon engraved with his dates and then his father's next to that so I assume the one dated 1854 must be my dad's grandfather. Before that are some smaller ones with only the initals on the back of the handle that we think are Georgian.
One of the reasons Dad didn't talk much about the past was he that he felt uncomfortable coming from a wealthy background. He was so down to earth you might never have guessed except for the fact that he was a true gentleman through and through. The only clues left to this past are boxes of things that have survived and a few photographs.
After the pleasure of looking at the designs on the cutlery and each choosing our favourites I went off in search of the old Gladstone bag and suitcase hidden under the bed. I've looked through the pictures and cards so many times, but each time something new is revealed to me.
The Gladstone has all that remains of dad's family life and the cardboard suitcase contains all that my mum's mum stored away of hers. There are pictures of women in long elegant gowns and men in shooting suits picnicking; there are several black and white shots of prize Gloucester Old Spots (so maybe the money came from farming); amongst all this are scenes from the Great War of soldiers sitting in deck chairs on the beach, then the grandad I never knew grinning by the Sphinx and finally post-war family shots of fun at the beach. My thoughts always move to the faces of the men laughing with their families and wonder at how they feel in this world that is so different from all they experienced just a few photos back.
I couldn't find the picture I was really looking for. The man above was my grandad's cousin. Little Bun thought it was her grandad as the family similarity is so strong. He was an officer in the Great War and the lost photo shows him in full uniform. Dad told me he came home, said his final farewells and then went back to the front for the last time.
I'd like to bind together all of the stories so they're not lost forever. There are so many to tell of my man's family, my mum's aswell as dad's so the girls can remember it all for themselves.