things I can’t part with even though it’s probably bad feng shui, part 1

July 14th, 2010 | Category: things

This is an object I loved. I used it several times a week for many years. It’s a bit of moulded plastic but never was there a more noble, hard-working spatula. When it broke, I Could Not put it in the bin. Not my sturdy companion of many a cake. Not my waste-not, want-not right-angled scraper of every batch of anything I ever food-processed. Not my flexible, fast-draw emptier of any jar or container. I keep the pieces in the back of a drawer. A couple of putative replacements have been dismal failures. Soppy silicon. Imprecisely angled corners. Joins. Sigh.

In ‘The Pursuit of Love’ Nancy Mitford’s characters Bob and Louise tease younger sister Linda by reciting,”‘A little houseless match, it has no roof, no thatch./ It lies alone, it makes no moan, that little houseless match.’ When Aunt Sadie was not around the children would chant this in gloomy chorus. In certain moods one had only to glance at a match-box to dissolve poor Linda…” Have you been know to have tender feelings for household objects?

3 Responses to “things I can’t part with even though it’s probably bad feng shui, part 1”

  1. Cath Crowley says:

    Years ago, when I started teaching (so really years ago) my friend gave me a Spode mug that had rocking horses on it and cricket bats and dogs on wheels. The alphabet is written around the rim. It’s the most beautiful shade of blue. It’s cracked now and I can’t drink from it anymore but I can’t throw it out.

  2. simmone says:

    When I lived in England I used to go swimming somewhere around ladbroke grove. One day I found an old wooden comb in the changing room.* It was quite wide, with a broken handle but for some reason I kept it. And kept it, and kept it. But last year I think I left it at my sister’s in Queensland. I hope she hasn’t thrown it out. I miss it.

    * this feels a bit like admitting to keeping a stranger’s knickers or breast pump or something. But for you, fiona, I will always divulge.

    • fiona says:

      I hope it’s waiting for you in Q, Simmone. I used to have a crimson paisley man dressing gown I got at an op shop. It was beautiful. Exactly the right amount of worn soft. Long, nearly to ankle length. Long sleeves. My mother was horrified. ‘Someone could have DIED in that.’ I love the extra lives that things get. I like the story idea of following a thing through its various people-lives. I’m sure it’s been done – many times – but I can’t remember egs except the book about the toy rabbit with a french name.

      Cath, I have a couple of faded pieces of china I will never chuck. (I shouldn’t have dishwashered them.)

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