When I was 11 I went with a friend to an activity day at her new school, Ipswich Grammar. I loved the beautiful and historic grounds. Two things from this weekend stick in my memory. The first was learning how to pretend to faint (fall from the feet, not the head). The second was creating a wishing box. We decorated and painted little paper mache boxes with all sorts of Bric-à-brac, and inside put a little note book where we could write our wishes.
Over time, I would put little trinkets and mementos of significant times in my life into this box. It has become quite a congeries, with items ranging from my baby hospital bracelet, pebbles and bells from my childhood, to foreign coins, dice and bottle caps from my teen and adult years. I also wrote down my hopes in the book. Unfortunately it turned out the book guaranteed they wouldn’t come true.
For some time, my little time capsule had been chockablock. I finally bought a large paper mache box and covered it with scraps of one of my favourite fabric remnants. I used PVA, which isn’t the best for fabric, but did the trick. I now have enough room for another 25 years of memories (and broken wishes).