A sad swag

My mum has had the unhappy job of cleaning out my nana's unit, and sorting out all of her things. My nana, bless her, was a packrat, a trait my mother swears she didn't inherit, but trust me - she did. Ask my sisters!

Nana kept everything. EVERYTHING. My Uncle Greg's First Form report card turned up. The newspaper clipping detailing my calisthenics group success at Ballarat in 1983 turned up (no, you're not seeing that picture anytime soon). Cards from my grandparents 50th anniversary were found, along with close to 100 un-used Christmas cards.

My mum dropped by with a pile of things for me, including my Celtic Hearts Shawl that I gave Nana for her birthday this year. My pile included many many photos of me over the years, including one from my birth, Nana's bible and baptism order of service, doilies, tablecloths and tea towels (the really nice Irish linen ones she never used). Oh, and all this.















So many sock needles! I also love the old Aero 8's (4mm), made back when they used actual steel so a stiff knitter like myself couldn't bend them (I can snap bamboo sock needles. It's a tragedy). The sock pattern book is adorable, but the thing I love most is my nana's First Prize certificate from the Mirboo North Annual Show. She was so proud of her red socks winning, and I plan to keep it safe along with my two from the Royal Melbourne Show.