20.1.18 Things on my dining table
The best present I ever received came with a tag that swung from the small square box. It said "TIP ME UP" and so I did. A mass of chocolate coins tumbled out, gold and silver, and, dotted amongst them, miniature totems of my life. A pair of wellington boots that I could wear on two fingers. A cup and saucer I could balance on my thumbnail. A dollhouse umbrella, wrapped tight and darkest green. Buttons and marbles and the smallest set of keys you've ever seen, for I collect them too, if you remember - they line my staircase. A copper bird with a long, curved beak. A tiny bottle with a bound note.
Other small things have found their way to me at other times, from friends and readers who know my propensities and from my own magpie nature. My house holds them all in its pockets, in dishes and boxes and tins. Occasionally, I'll lay them out and make a curation of them.
I have been dreaming today of a matchbox museum. Maybe I will start one. I could fill a matchbox a week, a month, with the smallest things I can find, label them and stack them high, drawing each one out from time to time, to arrange and photograph as if priceless.
A record of life in diminutive, overlooked, broken things - I'd like that.
Eyes to the ground then. I wonder what will find me.