Sam

An heirloom. He’d been gathering dust and tarnish on Katie’s windowsill, hidden behind her dressing table for a good long time prior to a recent clear-out and since I couldn’t quite bring myself to send him to the charity shop I invested in some Brasso and gave him a good going-over instead. Now he’s sat by the desk looking at me, bluster somewhat re-instated. My Mum loved a bit of brass, for some reason, my Nan too; not me though, it must be said. But I can remember my parents buying him from a shop on Brixham Harbour on a family holiday many years ago (he was part of a pair but they could only afford the one so they had to split up the litter) which, given the somewhat tatty nature of my memory, seems like reason enough to keep him…