Friday 21st March - Memorabilia

 We had some business to transact at the local branch of the bank my father used, in connection with his estate (sounds so very formal put that way) It was going to be much simpler if my brother was present in the flesh, although it could have done on-line, and so my he came over (a three hour drive, not to be done lightly!).  

The bank stuff was dealt with efficiently (my brother regaling me with horror stories from his own banking experiences all the while as the bank adviser tapped away at her computer screen, wonder what she thought of that) and then we were free for a rather late lunch.

Where was the sun we were promised on the weather forecast? Although it was now about 2pm and I think that was when it was supposed to start clouding over. 

It was lovely to have a leisurely lunch together; BB had scoped out the nearby restaurants with outside tables while my brother and I were answering questions and signing things. We had a pleasant meal and caught up on news, chat, and so forth.

He was also able to collect some items for valuation, and measure up some furniture in my father’s flat, so all in all a useful and productive trip.

I took home my father’s Memorabilia books; he used to slot bits and pieces of paper and so on into the clear plastic pockets of those A4 'display books'. 

I had a quick look at one of the books today; a few letters to and from me and my brother when we were at boarding school, some letters from my grandmother to her children at their schools, letters about the bombing in Southampton where she did war service as a locum GP...

A letter from my grandfather to his future father-in-law asking for permission to marry, newspaper cuttings - it's all jumbled up in random order, skipping through the decades, centuries even, family anecdotes, photographs, letters, transcripts...

Fascinating reading, and I've what no idea we will do with it all. Keep it, I suppose, through the generations, to use in school projects, family research... Eventually the people will become shadow people, no longer existing as 'live' memories, and therefore all the papers and photographs will have less emotional weight and ge easier to deal with. 

I keet things because they connect me to my grandmother and mother, and other friends and relatives, but once I'm gone, that connection will be broken. 

The things - a mug she had, a tiny doll in a matchbox and some little miniature vases from her curiosity cupboard, some brass candlesticks that stood on the bureau in the dining room, will cease to be important in that way, and become mere objects in their own right. The next generation can do as they wish with them; keep, sell, donate. It won't matter. 

I find that a comforting thought. They might weigh me down a little now, but as their hold on me loosens, I feel lighter, more free.

Music 

I went looking for something, I wasn't sure what, but then I found this;

Harpo Marx playing Liszt Hungarian Rhapsody on his harp;

Further down the screen was this performance by Jeneba Janneh-Mason 

And here's a favourite for my parents, who introduced me to the humour of Victor Borge...

I wonder if Liszt had a sense of humour...