He wasn’t wrong; they were big. I peered inside … *sigh.* I moved a few things about. There was a university hall of residence year book. I was on the ‘Editorial Committee’ for this publication - at least that’s what my curriculum vitae said. I think in retrospect I was just sleeping with the Editor … (now Husband). Everything was covered with a crunchy layer of indeterminable crumbs.
I didn’t mention the boxes again. I hoped Dad would forget too. He didn’t.
About a week ago, Dad said ‘Any idea if you can get to look in those boxes, this time, Jen?’ Dad’s turn of phrase belies his meaning. This time it meant ‘would you bloody well get rid of those boxes of crap this time…’ though he wouldn’t ever say that to me. Well, he might, eventually.
OHMYGOD. Well. I went through the first box last night and what a rich supply of bloggable/writable research material. Oh I can hardly wait to tell you about it, but my friend L and her girls are due any minute to spend the day with us, so I shall have to wait.
I will leave you with a picture of the layers of books I found at the bottom of the box.
