I moved into my current house four and a half years ago, but I have done very little to make it my own. It was in reasonable shape when I bought it, but even though some of the decoration was not to my taste I have never got round to changing anything. Which in a way is good. Because if I'd decorated four years ago it would be about time to redecorate again now, so I have saved myself a lot of time and effort. If I can leave things as they are for another four years then that's two redecorations that I have saved myself and then I can spend all that money on sweets! I am never going to cut it as an adult.
I have decided though to try and tidy things up a bit and have a look at what needs doing and made some slight effort towards that this evening, by trying to reorganise my lounge. This mainly involved trying to get my books into some kind of order. When I moved in they all just got stuck up on the shelves in no particular order, so tonight I tried to categorise them a bit, so I could work out what was where. This took a surprisingly long time, but by midnight and some seven hours of moving things around, my history books were all in one place, my favourite novels all together on another shelf and some of them were even in alphabetical order.
I found a few books that I had forgotten about, one or two that I didn't even know I had, and also had a few double copies and books I was ashamed of which I will donate to charity.
One book I had forgotten about was an old copy of "Virginibus Puerisque" by Robert Louis Stevenson, which had been a gift from my late grandfather. In the front was his name "G T Herring" and the date 1922. He had inscribed it 85 years ago.
There was also the letter that he had sent with the book tucked inside. This was dated 17/11/85 and it was strange to be transported back to this time and to read a letter from my much-loved grandad.
He had sent me the book at rather a difficult time for the young Richard Herring. It was during my year off and I had been working on some archaeological digs, but at the second one, one of my fellow diggers had been killed in a car accident (it was something I would later write about in my play, "Excavating Rita") and my grandad commiserates with me about this. He also writes of my plans to go to America (which I did the next year) and my singing in concerts (I used to sing light opera and have lessons)
He wrote " You will quite rightly be puzzled when you receive this small parcel, and equally be disappointed when you unwrap it and find it to be a rather delapidated book. To allay your disappointment somewhat I enclose a fiver."
He told me that he had not given me the book to read, as he didn't think I would appreciate it "today" as he had done when he had been my age, but asks for me to keep it for another 63 years and then hand it on to my own grandchildren.
It's rather frightening to realise that 22 of those 63 years have already passed by and I am no closer than I was then to having children, let alone another generation.
He adds "There is an interesting story attached to it which I will tell you one day." I don't know if he ever did, but if he did I have forgotten it. But it is great that he gave it to me, and it's certainly lasted longer than the fiver which I might have preferred at the time. It's lovingly annotated throughout, so it clearly did mean a lot to him and it's very touching that he passed it on and I felt rather emotional to discover this neglected treasure.
He signs off by saying that he is interested to hear that I have become vegetarian (which had been a decision I'd made after the first dig I'd been on and was something I would keep up until the year 2000), saying that he and my Nannan (that's what we called my dad's mum, for some reason) had inclinations that way and again promising a very interesting story about one of their vegetarian friends, which was either never related, or has been forgotten. He passes on his regards to Sian, my girlfriend at the time, hoping that she is as beautiful as ever and signs off with affection.
It's a little time capsule and interesting and moving for many reasons and I was pleased to find it and delighted I kept the letter. Better get on with producing some kids so I can hand the book on.
Oooh yes, and also this time last week I was sitting in Phuket airport writing my blog. Had I been there, just a week later and arriving rather than leaving and travelled on a different airline, then who knows what might have become of me? As near misses go, it's quite poor, but still got a bit a jolt when I saw the news.
