I am sure some of you will have had a very similar experience.
Sorting some bits earlier I came across this
An old tin. Battered and bashed, but I knew what it contained. I lifted the lid
Sure enough the bits and pieces were neatly stashed inside – and there on top was the last piece of work, incomplete. It was the handy collection that my mother took with her when she travelled – so that she would always have something to keep her hands busy. I was prepared – but it still brought a lump to my throat – especially as the thread on top was one of my hand-dyes. I can remember the last time she took it on holiday – with us, to Wales. She opened and closed the tin, but couldn’t remember what she had to do with the things inside.
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