On 4th September 1997 I wrapped a Victorian serving dish in a newspaper to move to a new house. I didn’t wrap it too well because I knew that in 24 hours I would be unwrapping it again. This morning, 28th July 2010., I unwrapped it for the first time.
Imagine that now, I said to myself, you loved that Victorian serving dish – you were always embarassed that when it first came to you there was 6 of them, all preserved and handed across generations (not mine, but generations nevertheless), washed, dried and stacked away by countless people and eventually they reach you and you manage in the space of five years to break them and are left with just one. On 4th September 1997, of all the things that I was carrying from one life to the other, that Victorian dish was deemed important. However, in the space of 24 hours and 4 miles – the dish mysteriously transformed itself to “something for the attic” and there it has been until today. With cobwebs in my hair, I stood in the attic this morning looking at the dish – this very important dish, wrapped in the now yellow newspaper and wondered what I prized today that, if I moved, would end up eventually being unwrapped in thirteen years time. I am tempted to utilize this story as a “…..its a bit like life really” but remember the Billy Connolly sketch with the Vicar at the football match…..”y’know – football is a bit like God” and will resist. There is a metaphor somewhere in this Victorian dish story but its so obvious that I don’t think I need to look for it.