Well on Saturday it was my turn to man the studio/workshop down on the wharf in Bude, a blustery showery day with a few visitors and I managed to get some work done and some new bracelets and earrings made up (at last!). Then into our wonderful local pub on the edge of the Atlantic and home for supper.
Then yesterday I did something I have been meaning to do for months, but have kept putting it off as I just didn't know where to start! That is going through all the boxes we brought back from Dad's flat when he moved into the home last year. Thankfully one of my nieces in law took alot of the furniture and other large pieces had been 'left' to people in Dad's will so these pieces went 'early' to their new owners (Dad's flat is up for sale and had been sold subject to contract when we emptied it, sadly the sale fell through, but fingers crossed...).
So most of the boxes yesterday were odds and ends, crockery and books; lots and lots and lots and lots of books! My parents were avid readers and were very well read; lots of classics, biographies, foreign language books (this was my Mum and not just learning language books these are novels) in French, Italian and Danish (I have studied Italian but these books are way way way beyond my abilities); and medical text books (my Father having been a surgeon). Some of these medical text books are very old and some written by himself (must get him to sign his books at some point!). There are also old stamp collections (my Victorian Great Aunt) and commemorative annuals from 1937 and books that were given as school prizes for Dad and for Mum. How on earth do you go through these things, they are someones life, precious and cared for!
I had planned to end up with at least 4 boxes of books to go to a second hand shop, but instead have ended up with just two (one with Mum's foreign language books and one with books that I already have copies of!). I kept picking things up and thinking, 'oh I might like to read that' and 'this is old, best keep it' and so on! I actually got quite emotional about the whole thing. Mum's passing was difficult, but in some ways a relief as she had been sooooo unwell; moving Dad into the home was difficult, but I see now that actually it was what he wanted, he was tired and old and although not much of a socialiser needed to have someone to talk to every day and to take care of him (and boy do the girls - and a few boys - take very good care of him where he is now!); packing the flat up was difficult, dividing up someone's belongings, but they had downsized over the years there really wasn't that much furniture left; but going through these books (and photo albums), finding old treasures and gifts from Dad to Mum (and the other way round) was painful, very painful. For the first time in a year I shed a few tears over my parents lost youth (and mine I suppose). We will take good care of these treasures and will ensure that the most precious are passed down the family when that time comes! In the meantime we will now have to find somewhere to put all these wonderful books (and we have about 10 boxes of our own books to unpack yet!).
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