childhood

The Magical Trunk of Childhood

Create a hand-decorated trunk for your childs favourite things for when they grow up

Welcome back, and Happy New Year!  I hope you had a lovely break (I did; more on that in a newsy post to follow…).

Filled with a Marie Kondo-esque desire to declutter and simplify, we set about tackling our loft this weekend.  The loft is a cavernous, dimly lit space that extends the full length of the house; a CS Lewis-like room with a myriad of eaves and nooks and crannies, now piled to the brim with 111,862 things that we might want one day but not today, all in sporadically labelled boxes and piles.  Sometimes the boxes are clearly labelled …but with entirely misleading information; from a box marked ‘ski gear’ we pulled a full Father Christmas costume, complete with spectacles and boots.  ’Easter Baskets: Misc’ is just as likely to contain a pile of old tax returns.

One of the biggest jobs to tackle in the loft was the challenge that I have saved almost every item from Harry’s childhood to date, resulting in a tide of toys, clothes, books, small furniture and so on.  Time to act!

In a local thrift shop this weekend we found this gorgeous old steamer trunk, below.  Shabby inside, it is structurally completely sound and from an era where trunks were routinely tossed around and built to last.  At £20, it was a bargain, so we dragged it home (Ok; I supervised; my husband dragged :-) )

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I gave Harry the task of choosing what paper we should use to recover the inside – I opted for sheets of giftwrap, thinking wallpaper would be a little thick, and fabric too complicated for my elementary technique.  In the meantime, I peeled away all of the loose bits of paper, tapped down any spiky nail ends and generally gave the trunk a good wipe down.  I didn’t bother to steam away all of the paper; just ensured the loose bits were gone.

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Harry chose a gorgeous, vibrant circles-based paper for the inside which I’d sourced from here; I keep a little supply of flat giftwrap sheets for all kinds of projects.  The eagle-eyed might remember I also used it on this project!  That evening, I measured and cut and used watered-down white glue to paste the sheets and strips of paper into place.  When you first do this it will look dreadful; the paper is a little wrinkled and bubbled and will appear damp in patches.  My advice?  Go to bed at this point.  Then when you come down in the morning it will have dried and will look like this…

Paper-covered vintage steamer trunk

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We love the end result – Harry uttered a satisfying ‘WOW, mum!’ when he saw it – and next weekend have decided we will go through the loft together and curate a small collection of precious treasures to go into his trunk, from babyhood through to now.  A couple of outfits, school books, best artwork, favourite toys and books, now outgrown but ready for another generation.  The task, as always, will be what to leave out.

Have a wonderful week, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing!

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Animals I Have Loved; a snapshot of childhood

Animals I Have Loved

From the very earliest time my son could form a grip, his hands would be tightly grasped around Marvin the Mouse; an obligingly soft and tactile animal who didn’t mind being chewed, tossed, lightly-strangled and occasionally run-over by buggy wheels.  Over the years Harry’s animal collection slowly grew, and the animals themselves developed clear personalities and bedroom allegiances.  They’ve learned to love the washing machine (or at least to endure it), and manage to occupy themselves patiently during the long days that Harry is at school.  When we went away for Christmas a couple of years ago, we even found that he’d left them a Christmas card to open in his absence, addressed to Wilberforce, chief polar bear and head of the family…

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Harry and I decided as a project to photograph each of the animals at this moment in time and to describe their personalities, so that one day ‘when I am an old man and have my own children’, he can tell them the stories too.  I took shots of Harry as he described each bear (or dog, rabbit, mouse, wolf..) to me.

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I loved hearing the stories as Harry talked; I learned who was shy at first but then inclined to show off once he knew people (Potter, the bunny rabbit), and who was a little bit scared of the dark (Sam the corgi).  All together, we documented the lives of 16 small furry family members, and are going to have a little book printed so that they can look through their own portraits whenever they pull it down from the shelves.

p.s. Remember when they acquired pet passports and were finally able to travel with us?

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Have a wonderful weekend!

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The Mysteries of Small Boys

The Mysteries of Childrens Pockets

Until very recently, if you had asked me about the mythology of what small boys keep in their pockets, I would have been inclined to dismiss it as literary cliché and nostalgia.  What modern boy, after all,  covets marbles and decrees that random kerbside junk is somehow Treasure?

This one, it seems.

Harry discovered the true magic of pockets – with their seeming infinite capacity for holding Important Things – when he was given a fleece jacket with roomy, zipped pockets on each side.  When I pulled it out of the laundry basket last week ready to wash it, it weighed a startling amount.  Careful emptying of a single pocket revealed the list of treasures above, dictated by Harry as being;

An old fruit gum: “For my snack, if I need energy”

Pebbles: “For my collection”

A golf ball, found in undergrowth the previous weekend and carried around for 5 days: “For Grandma”

Marbles, source unknown: “For a game I am planning about lions”

A single, small Lego piece: ‘I always like to have Lego in my pocket”

Stray feather: “For you, because I know you like feathers and I always collect them when I find them”

Random rubber objects with sequins attached to them: ‘Just in case I need them for something.  And because you like sparkly things”.

Squashed pine cone: “In our game it was the school bell and I was ringing it to mean the end of playtime”

I was struck not only by the sheer magnitude of stuff which he’d collected (and you can imagine the shower of dust, soil and fluff which fell out with it all…), but also the considered evaluation and justification of each item.  They’re currently carefully collated in a shoebox, waiting for the fleece to be dry so that they can be restored to their rightful place.  Or discreetly thrown away.

 

Boys… a wonderful, awesome mystery.

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(p.s. What’s the strangest thing you’ve found in a pocket?  And to mothers of daughters; are girls the same?  )