Wednesday 22 May 2013

Wednesday.


Above is another photo of the fine old house beside Cockfield churchyard.

Today has been a long day. Up betimes to attend the early morning communion service at which, it turned out, Ann was deaconing (bit of a muddle which eventually got sorted). Breakfast in Church, then home, just as well as post came rather early for once. Back to Hilary's by ten for U3A Scrabble Club, which Hilary was hosting. Hilary left at eleven a.m. for a funeral service in which she was assisting. Ann called in at Hilary's for me at eleven thirty, and we walked round to St. Mary's (only about a hundred yards from Hilary's house) also to attend the funeral service for John, a friend of ours, who, with his wife Leslie, retired to our town about three years ago. Their daughter Clare, her husband Jonathon (who is now our organist) and their son Oliver, had moved to our area a year or two before that. Since then Leslie has become one of our Churchwardens, and Jon, as I said, has become our Church organist. They have settled in and become a real part of our community very quickly, especially for Suffolk, where it is said that no one is considered a native until they've got a granny buried in the churchyard. It seemed very hard therefore when, less than a year ago,  John, who was a very fit and active seventy three year old, was found to have leukemia; from which he died ten days ago. Today his son-in-law Jon played the organ at his funeral, and his daughter Clare gave the eulogy, together with her brother (in New Zealand but on a large screen - he has spent a lot of time over here lately with his parents- but was unable to get back for the funeral).  It was a very moving funeral, and we finally got back, around three o'clock,  from the post funeral get together, which was held at Clare and Jon's house, a mile away in the next village.
When we got home I nipped upstairs to get out of the subfusc funeral clobber, and before climbing into me workshop rig, decided to get me head down for ten minutes. I was awoken, an hour and a half later, by Ann, with, bless 'er, a cup of tea.  Since then pottered in my workshop. As I said - been a long day.


The above item (well the top one, not the quid below it) arrived in the post this morning, having been purchased on ebay. It's  an inch and a half long, and is made of brass and steel. It's today's mystery item. It was described on ebay as a snuff box, which it isn't.
I'm sorry about the slightly fuzzy photo. Still trying to get the hang of the new camera.

                                           Goodnight All.

11 comments:

Sir Bruin said...

Wild guess - a pocket sized flint and steel thingy?

Unknown said...

You're quite right Steve. It's unusual in that the horseshoe shaped piece of steel round the outside of the brass box is of steel, so that if a piece of sharp flint and some tinder is carried in the box, then you have the ingredients for making fire.

Unknown said...

P.s. Should have said - it's of nineteenth century date. Friction matches were invented in 1827, but didn't become popular until the 1840/50 mark, so that tinder boxes were used until a surprisingly late date.

Rog said...

Ok "subfusc" - another explanation required Mike!

Unknown said...

Hi Rog. You made me wonder if I'd got it right, so checked dictionary definition and it's given as dusky or sombre; so dark funereal clothing.

Pat said...

I'm glad you are taking power naps. Vital in a busy life like yours.
Is it an ancient powder compact?

Unknown said...

Hello Pat. No, it's a small, pocket tinder box.

Maggie said...

Nice one Pat, I think you are correct and the boys are wrong! Maggie (Mike's sister)

Unknown said...

Hello Maggie. You mean I was having my leg pulled by Pat???? I should have realised.
The item is only an inch and a half long. Did they make powder compacts that small? Still, the 'boys' bit nearly makes up for it.

Unknown said...

P.s. Many happy returns of the day Maggie. Big zero one I believe, little sister ?

Pat said...

They made them that small for the fairies at the bottom of your garden;)