I read somewhere that if you have two or more items of the same kind then that makes the beginning of a collection. Last week I wrote about a special camel shaped inkwell my mother had brought back from Nazareth in 1946 or 47.

This one however I know nothing about. It belonged to my aunt and came with the cottage. It is silver, I suppose, and one day I must clean it. It makes an interesting enough ornament, though no one has ever remarked upon it. The glass well inside is intact and stained black. Or maybe it’s black glass. It has a wooden base round which the bell like form seems to have been beaten. It seems to have been beaten quite a lot as there are many indentations. The little knob in the hinged lid is quite askew, too. In fact I don’t think it’s silver at all. Maybe pewter.

In fact the more I look at it the more fascinated I am. Why is it we do not ask about things in time. I was very close to my aunt I always thought yet I know so little about her.

She kept so many things yet no diary, no letters, no thoughts.

This inkwell then is a relic. But of what. Whose was it? Who used it? When? I am tempted a little by a primary school assignment: write a story about a day in the life of – insert object here- but don’t worry. I shan’t be giving in to temptation just yet! My little collection of inkwells is unlikely to increase in size.