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When I was a child, I loved little trinket boxes.
I am the eldest of five children and, when we were all young, privacy was hard-won. So, I guess, the tiny boxes appealed to me. It was somewhere to hide my special ‘bits and bobs’. A secret place, away from my sharp-eyed, grubby-fingered siblings. I was always a ‘girly’ girl, but my sisters were all tomboys and careless with my things. And as for my brother ……….well ……he was a boy !
My boxes were never anything fancy. They were usually discarded cigar or cigarette boxes …… or some such thing. Maybe a box that had once held a small item of china or even an old jewellery box. But I decorated them with coloured paper; painted the lids; lined them with tissue or cotton-wool and they became treasure-troves.
Then they were filled with a great variety of objects; things that I found interesting or beautiful. Glass beads from a broken necklace; dried petals from a rose. Paste ‘jewels’ that had fallen out of a cheap brooch; ribbons; a marbled pebble; or any other pretty thing that caught my eye.
And I have found that this passion for special little receptacles is not unique to females. Both my son and grandsons had caches of little ‘treasures’. But theirs were dead beetles or tiny wheels from broken toy cars and other, more masculine, things. ( I can hear the PC, anti-gender-specific brigade ‘tutting’ with disapproval )
My love for trinkets and small boxes has stayed with me, but, nowadays, I collect the real thing. Perhaps it goes with a ‘tidy mind’; I don’t care for clutter. I am one of those people who like everything to have a ‘place’ and tend to compartmentalise things. Everything in ‘little boxes’, literally and metaphorically.
I know many of you will be the same ……. and that is okay …….. nothing wrong with it at all ! Putting things in boxes is fine …………….
Just as long as we don’t do it with people, too …………………………………