Memories in a Scrap Book

Paper, scissors, glue, and – most importantly – memories:

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While we were on our holiday this year – a belated honeymoon in fact – our rucksacks filled up with a wealth of paper junk: dog-eared guides, mud-stained and crumpled receipts, tickets, brochures, postcards and etc. I don’t know what provoked it; either my husband or I were trying to sort through the bags, reduce the funky smells that we couldn’t quite identify, and he suggested we keep things for, you know, a scrap book.

It was one of those special moments, where you realise someone really knows you because scrap booking is right up my street. (I am one of those people , and I am sure there are many of them, who still prints photos and puts them in an album.) So, we starting saving stuff; random, inconsequential stuff, that we knew would one day bring back some of the following memories:

The receipt from our hotel in Vegas – we had a row about the pushy desk clerk, but it’s next to the photo where I won $5 and we spent it on beer and whiskey, so it came out okay in the wash. (The fact that $5 can get you beer and whiskey is one of the best and worst things about Vegas.)

The receipt from our car hire in San Francisco – I was a hideous passenger, but we learnt the words to some new country songs (only radio we could get…) and that got us through.

I could go on, but I won’t; this is not about my memories per se, just about memories in general. For a while after our trip, the train tickets and national park maps withered in an envelope. Then one day, I was in a craft shop in town and I bought some cheap but fancy scrap booking paper. I was on a long summer holiday, my husband busy and stressed at work, when one evening, we sat on the floor, spread out the papers and organised the pages of our scrap book. We worked on chronology, layout, colours and laughed our way through a pleasant hour.

Before anyone sighs wistfully, it wasn’t quite the perfect romantic scene. We bickered over how level things should be, what order things happened in, and how to tie the pages together. However, now up on a shelf, to come down whenever one of us needs perking up, is a slim, beautifully bound (it’s tied together with green ribbon!), scrap book. It’s memories and more. It’s weren’t we lucky to get to do this? Wasn’t it funny when? Do you remember how that annoyed us? It’s counting our blessings.

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