A Timeless Thing, Made With Love.

In the bottom of my Singapore Camphor Wood Chest which was made for me, is a white, pure wool shawl, wrapped in tissue paper which was crocheted by my Step Grandfather for the birth of my first born son. It is still perfect, and quite lovely.
Moths don’t like Camphor Wood.

There was absolutely nothing poncy about Granddad. He worked for all of his life on The Permanent Way. That’s smart speak for Railway Lines. It was hard work and his hands suffered for it. But he turned out some very beautiful things in his quiet moments.

I think it was a measure of his affection for me, and I am so sorry that I never told him so. In fact I wonder if I even realised at the time.

I was never tempted to give it to any of my children for which I am pleased. None of them appear to be any where near as sentimental as I am, so it would probably have disappear off the face of Planet Earth if I had.

These thought have come about by the birth of my Second Great Grandchild. A girl named Lily. Born on the First of June in the Year of Our Lord, 2019. No, I don’t believe in A God as such, but that’s another tale.

Girl Children don’t abound in our family. My Dear Sister has none at all, so another one is a bonus. I’ve got three now. Gemma, Lillijah and Lily. They all look like me, of course. And that’s a good thing. I was surprisingly beautiful in the days when I didn’t know it. But time marches and I am now a wrinkled, old harridan. Still clutching a beautiful shawl that will never age.

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