Along with notebooks, I’ve got a bit of a thing about boxes. And it’s not something I’m sorry about. I mean when the boxes are as pretty as these, why would I? If you’ve seen this one on my Instagram feed recently you’ll know it’s another Instagram purchase from a vintage seller there. This one had me worried a little as it was slow to arrive, but once it was here I was smitten.
It wasn’t my intended purchase. I saw a vintage sign that made me smile, and it was that that caught my eye. Scrolling through more photos I spotted the box, and it was sold. Literally. I had no idea of its size, but that didn’t matter.
As you can see it’s not large, but is a decent enough size - and the amount of work it contains is amazing. MOH predictably asked where it would go when it arrived, but knew that disputing its existence was futile.
Much like when we walked into a room full of decorative boxes on our short break in Norfolk last year. I thought I had a photo which I could add to this post, but it seems I was too much in awe to do that. But clearly the memory has stayed, and it’s clearly going to be somewhere we revisit, often. That time I left with a candlestick instead of a box, but that was a blip, I’m pretty sure there’s a box in my future.
Instead though I’m sharing one that I already have. I know it came to me via dad, but that’s all I know. The name - L Higginson - isn’t one we know, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t either. But that doesn’t mean it’s any less of a box beauty.
What I’d forgotten though was all the photos it holds. And consequently the memories.
Including one of my four cats (none of whom are still with me) enjoying dinner on a distinctly dodgy looking (temporary) carpet in the kitchen in my old house. The memory of walking on cat food barefoot isn’t a memory I needed to recall though.
The detail on the boxes, including this mother of pearl keyhole, that’s something I don’t think I’ll tire of.
