January is always one of those months. Time to reflect, restore and regroup. Expectations are simple - keep warm, keep healthy and keep the washing pile ticking over. However once you turn the calendar page to February there is suddenly no excuse for leaving the Christmas lights on the weeping cherry outside, and by the time you do bring them in you realise the wooden front door has swollen so much in the bad weather that you can't retrieve the last bit of cable from the lower corner. This is why we now have a beautifully illuminated shoe rack.
I'll give them another month.
I'd refused to return Christmas to it's snoozing place this year until it had been thoroughly 'sorted out'. Our hidey hole is in the attic which has for many years now been a no go area. The only time it is ventured into is a) Christmas - put arm in, grab necessary boxes, retrieve and replace as necessary, and b) Summer - repeat operation with garden recliners. This means that the only movement has been around the door and the further reaches have remained blissfully dormant. No longer! After several dust laden hours of pulling, hauling and some rather choice language we managed to rid ourselves of two car loads of - ahem - rubbish and upturn some long forgotten treasures.
First up was this gorgeous little clock.
We bought it for Big Sis when she was but a tot but she never liked the sound of it. In her words - 'I no like the tickety tock'. So into the attic it went. Sadly it was over wound so we need to get it seen to as the little pixies look so sweet going up and down on the see-saw as the clock tickety tocks away.
Then came this box.
In typical fashion rather than just open it we stared at it for quite some time trying to figure out what it might be inside.Was the W. a monogram? What did Walter keep in his box? We remembered an old reel projector that we once had with old newsreels of a zoo and (oddly) the Hindenburg disaster. Eventually it was opened and I whooped at what was inside. A gorgeous Remington typewriter.
Was W. a writer? A journalist? Had this been an essential part of his kit as he visited newsworthy places? It still works and makes a heartening nostalgic click with each letter pressed (although it feels very odd not being able to alter size or style of font!)
So what do I do with it? Keep it safe in it's box and bring it out for special occasions, or find somewhere to display it in all it's glory (although the dusting of all those little parts doesn't thrill me)? Who do you think W. might have been? Do you know when it might date from (if it's any help it's been in the attic for twenty years so it's not from this century ;))?
So, although there's still more work to do (we didn't make it into the furthest corners stuffed with baby clothes and Mr K's paintings) our first little foray was roundly rewarded. However I don't think we'll be needing those garden recliners anytime soon!