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Thoughts From The Coast: A Safe Place

"Ah,'' you think "I don't want to lose this. I'll put it in a safe place.'' Then you forget the location of the safe place.

Jackie Mallinson writes about present frustrations.

As one gets older, a safe place can lead to a mystery tour. The special something which needed to be on hand at that exact moment has disappeared into thin air.

An instance of this was some jewellery, intended for my young grand-daughter who was to visit this summer. These pieces have still not come to hand.

One does try to make a point of remembering these important safe places, but when a few days or even weeks have gone by, the mental block clicks in and there one is, scratching one's head, looking in all the likely spots.

While searching for the jewellery, I have found watch batteries, foreign coins that were meant to go in a charity box and a present, brought back from Turkey, which was meant for my sister.

This experience brings back to mind an elderly aunt who, when I was younger, had a habit of ringing up to ask if I could help find something of great importance which she had "put away''. In searching for things like birth or marriage certificates etc, there was never any problem. Those had had their allotted safe place for years and it was easy to set one's hands upon them.

The humour of these hunting occasions has never left me. I began even to think that some of these jaunts were staged and it was contact that my aunt was in need of. There was the time when she was contacted by the local amateur dramatic society had asked if she had any Twenties items with which to dress their stage. These she had put in a box and stored in a safe place. A box was not something one would think could go missing, but it did.

Her house was a treasure trove. We spent time putting on fashion hats of all eras, silk pyjamas, dazzling jewellery. This dressing up was accompanied by gushing and ridiculous dialogue as we were both inclined to over act.

We did find eventually the box. It was in the vestibule by the front door.

Remembering my aunt, and our searches together, brings necessary humour to my present frustrating search for my own safe place.

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