Mantelpiece

I've always lived with a mantelpiece. When I was child they were above open coal fires, usually with a wind-up, wooden clock sitting in the centre. Often there would be are array of ornaments, brass object and family photos. Interspersed would be bits and bobs that family members didn't want to lose: a recent letter from Auntie Betty, my dad's lighter for his pipe, the bill from the Gas Board, a spare key for the coal shed. The mantelpiece seemed to encapsulate family life; a mismatched conglomeration of objects.

Now I have two mantelpieces and I wonder what they say about me? Both are above gas fires and both have mirrors above. There are candles - some in pretty holders, many given to me as presents. There's a slate box, given to me in the early 1970s by my best friend as a present from Iran, where she had just visited. There's another box, dark blue wood, with tiny, brass fasteners that was a birthday present for my niece, and on top of it a little group of animals from Beatrix Potter's 'Peter Rabbit', made by my niece when she was a little girl. There's a silver cigarette box - won by my husband in a sailing competition, and a tiny, model aeroplane, made from bits of World War II aircraft, and given to me by a friend at my father's funeral (Dad was in the RAF).

There are dishes of pebbles and semi-precious stones, collected over many years for their beauty and a Kiwi, wooden totem, brought back from a trip to New Zealand to bring good fortune to our home. A decorated, pewter dish was a wedding present from a good friend.

Writing prompt: What does your mantelpiece say about you? Write about it without stopping. If you don't have one, perhaps like me you had one as a child, or maybe there was one at your grandparents' house. Share your comments if your like.