When I was a little girl I used to holiday at my Grandparent's home in Northumberland. One day she took me into her bedroom, which I was rarely allowed into, I remember clearly because it smelled of Beeswax and the bed looked like it had been ironed. She opened the bottom drawer to a solid oak chest of drawers and dug out three beautiful, old fans. I remember one of them was lace and another had huge peacock feathers and then there was this one. I was mesmerised. With its Mother of Pearl stems and hand painted picture, it caught my heart as she placed it in my hands.She explained it was over 200 years old and only I was allowed to play with them, on occasion, not my brothers - the fans were our secret. As I fluttered the gold sequined antique in front of myself I couldn't have felt more regal or special.
Grandma is no longer with me and I don't know what happened to the other fans, but this one was given to me. Thinking about it though- I wonder now - was it really the fan that made me feel so proud and special and pretty back then? Or was it perhaps my Grandma ?TTFN xxx