This battered old brown suitcase came from my Mum’s house.
The faint monogram are not initials I recognise.
My Grandad was a dustman. He died before I was born.
My Mum was often the drop off point for the PTA jumble sale.
It is likely this case came into my family after being cast out elsewhere.
I wonder about the owner of the monogrammed case.
Who they were and where they journeyed with this tiny case.
It now lives in my studio filled with books and pens.
My portable nest of creative comfort.
A beautiful bone handled knife.
It mostly sits in the drawer beneath my sewing machine.
A multi purpose studio tool.
Screwdriver, opener, scraper.
Judging by the slight gunkiness of the end
I suspect a glue spreader at some point too.
My kitchen drawer is full of these at home.
There they are used daily.
As knives.
I love card games.
Portable instant fun.
Nearly always easy to learn.
I have lots of old packs of playing cards.
I love the artwork.
I love the battered edges pointing to a game well loved and often played.
I started gathering them with the intention of using them in artwork.
I can’t quite bring myself to use them if the pack is complete.
I chuckle at the thought of beating my neighbours……..
My beautiful vintage typewriter from the 1940’s.
The clunk of the keys.
The slowness of making words.
There was a time when we took pride.
In designing and engineering things to function well and last.
We valued these items.
Decades on people covet them.
I wonder if someone will covet my laptop in 75 years time.
I’m pretty certain it won’t still work.
Neither will parts be available to buy.
Fat Hen ANd Flo 