THOUGHTS ON...
X marks the spot
Diane Lindsay does like a plan, and – when it comes to deciding about the future of her family history hoard – she’s weighing up the best course of action...
Iadmit I’m a hoarder. I’ve always been a hoarder. I like to think of my hoard as ‘my souvenirs,’ the name I gave my juvenile memorabilia, once kept in a battered tin box we all referred to as ‘The Trunk’.
Which was itself an heirloom, having gone through WWI with my Granddad. Even as a child I had a strong sense of family history and felt it fell to me to be the family archivist.
Inside were ticket stubs from Dudley Zoo, birthday cards, a Madonna statuette from my Song of Bernadette period, and a watch that glowed in the dark but never ticked beyond Christmas Day. There were schoolbooks, autograph books, early diaries, Grandma’s Sunday school prizes, and Julie, the only doll I ever loved. I stored it with my parents when my husband and I emigrated to Canada in our twenties. My mum, whether from bitterness or sheer absent-mindedness gave it to the dustmen. I never told her it also held the Mizpah engraved crucifix my dad carried all though WWII.