After writing my last post, it occurred to me that as well as losing things, I am the sort of person who often seems to find things. It’s weird. I do lose stuff, but I also find stuff more than anyone else I know. So, I guess it all evens out in the end.
At the weekend, I found a butter dish, sitting on a wall outside a block of flats. I already have a butter dish, but this was a very pretty one, and I had a strong feeling that its owner had died and I should honour that person in a tiny way by taking the butter dish and looking after it. There were a few objects there on the wall – a green plate, a tiny white and gold pot, a glass sugar bowl. They were all lovely. I hung around for a while, deciding, and took only the butter dish.
Other found items include:
Two of my five wooden kitchen chairs.
The huge mirror in my bedroom.
A long black halterneck dress, found in the street near the Tate Modern when I was 19 and worn countless times ever since, worn thin but still going strong.
A green and white tea set, or at least a few components of.
A tailor’s dummy, with which I have since parted ways.
A small and very useful frying pan and an Umberto Eco paperback, found together right outside my old flat.
Four blue and white plates.
A Queen's coronation saucer, which has lived in various bathrooms ever since.
A tile, found on a building site in Morocco and brought home in my suitcase.
I do genuinely worry slightly about my hoarding tendencies. I am unable to pass a stranger’s (sometimes questionable) treasure by. I have been reading recently about the Collyer brothers, who I had never heard of previously – it’s such a sad story, but I was left with the sense that the brothers really must have loved each other. Which I believe is the best thing to take away from this story.
(NB - if you follow the link to the Collyer brothers article, do carry on reading to the previous 'Taman Shud case' - it's absolutely fascinating.)