It is funny how a specific group of memories can be prompted by an unexpected trigger and take your breath away.When I was a little girl, I was a typical tomboy. My coat groaned with conkers, my shins were always bruised, my socks hung around my ankles like wrinkled elephant skin. My mother bought me only one doll, which I mutilated….you get the picture? I had but one girlish trait; I loved beads, jewellery and all things shiny and like a magpie, I collected these treasures. My trusty penknife prised stolen wonders from costume jewellery, from the quartz found in walls, from the graves I passed on my way to school and I hid them in a special box. When I was alone, I would take my treasures out and be filled with such wonder at their beauty. To this day I still like semi precious stones and always carry one in my purse as a talisman.
I was watching television yesterday and on the sleeve of someone was a band of glittery silver. Suddenly I was transported back through the years, my breath catching in my throat and my heart beating a wild tattoo. For just a second, I was that scruffy , little kid with her secret box of treasure. Like I said, funny isn’t it?