Years ago, a group of young women shared a house, their lives and clothes. It was the 1980s, so there was big hair. There were shoulder pads. There are no pictures. Not on here. Not ever.
The women were students, and broke. There was no official policy of shared ownership, but new garments or LPs (stop laughing, younger readers) were welcomed by all and regarded as essentially communal property.
Into this mix appeared a pair of dangly ‘pearl’ earrings. “Ooooh, where did you get those?”
“Ah, they’ve been lying about our house at home for ages. Dunno where they came from.”
And so they were named.
Even Herself, who’d bought the earrings only a few weeks before in Marks & Spencer, called them The Family Heirlooms. Shared fun and mischief, encapuslated in cheapy plastic.
I found them a few weeks ago. I’ll have them forever.
They’ve actually become heirlooms.
Written in response to Sidey’s weekend theme- Family Heirlooms. Welcome back Sidey. I need you to get my brain working.