Treasure

Ever since I was about 13, when I took over my brother's (much larger) bedroom as he departed for the world of work, I've had a tendency to display a bizarre range of what I affectionately label 'treasured crap' on my mantelpiece, bookcase or whatever other flat surface I have handy in my bedroom.

Everyone has stuff they like to look at now and then - as humans we have a natural desire to cherish certain things which appeal for a variety of reasons, be they positive or indeed negative.

My collection has changed over the years, partly because the display area is only so big and you have to get selective, and also because a lot of the things tend to have a certain edible quality to them - small bottles of whisky tend to be a particularly favourite treasure.

But certain things in the picture above have been pretty much constant throughout the years. The Stan (from South Park) doll is one of those, although the hat on top has changed a couple of times - the current one is a gift from Peru, which (like just about all hats on this glorious little Earth) looks infinitely better on his head than mine. The Chicago Cubs ticket from a glorious afternoon at Wrigley Park in 2002 is another keeper, as is the Apollo space pen from my brother, and also the karabiner from Yoseite, which acts as a reminder of just what an amazing place it really is.

Others will come and go I suspect, though perhaps alarmingly the peeball has outlasted several far more worthy mementos (one day I swear I will finally use it, but it seems such a shame to do it solo - I want someone else to race against!) and at some point I'm really going to have to give my mate Deej his 007 shot glass back (it's only been 6 years!).

But the constant editing of the treasure shelf isn't the point that matters. It's the fantastic memories that this little collection of bizarre artifacts gives me each time I look at them - how else would you explain the fact that even now, 7 years later, I still have a security bracelet from a first year university ball, despite the fact it's now a bit mouldy, very much broken, and completely unrecognisable.

That night was actually a pretty low point in uni for me, but what it gave me going forwards, what it reminds me of still today and the strength I draw from it are exactly the reasons I have, and will always have, a shelf full of this bizarre crap within eyesight until the day I die.