Storytelling Sunday Three: Pick Your Precious

Storytelling Sunday Three? There is no excuse for not joining in with this one! Everyone can do it. Pick Your Precious is about celebrating the little things you love: those souvenirs, bits and pieces, things from your past you can't bear to throw out. You know, the special little something you have tucked away in a drawer or up on a shelf? Or the thing you love most in a room? Or the object you would save if you knew you had to leave the country? Your favourite things.

Ready to begin?

The Copper Bracelet

Now here's something that'll make you laugh. When I went to hunt out my Precious this month I couldn't find it. i know what you are going to say: So much for Precious. Maybe you'd be right. After I'd balanced on a kitchen chair to look on the shelves and done that thing - you know the one, where you look under the bed, realise you're covered in dust, consider bringing out the vacuum cleaner and then reconsider very quickly - and scratched my head, I realised what my missing Precious was telling me. What I think we are all becoming more aware of as the year goes on: the story can be more fun to hold on to than the thing itself.

The thing, the Precious, this month? (because The Not So Small One found it, of course, she can find anything) I think it cost less than a pound, when I was, oh, about thirteen, maybe? It doesn't look like much now. It was a cheap little thing, even then. But - and this is the big bit - it had my name on it.

Some of you will understand what that means. If there aren't a lot of "you" around. When I was growing up there were no other "Sians" for miles around. Possibly not surprising, because it's a Welsh name and we didn't live in Wales; but a tricky situation when you are little and your second name is also so unusual you are the only one in the phone book. Nobody could say it (it's "Shan"), nobody could spell it, not even the teachers at school. I dreaded the first roll call of the school year. Doctors, dentists, opticians, hospitals? Every receptionist left me to the end of the queue: clever, on their part, because it meant they didn't have to announce me. I was the only one left. Wow, my Mum must have picked up a lot of useful stuff from all those magazines she read while we waited.

But all of that I could take. I got used to gritting my teeth and smiling sweetly through everyone else's mangled vowels. What I couldn't bear so easily was the lack of stuff. The little things we all like to gather round us as children: proof of ourselves, things named as our own. Souvenir keyring with my name on it? Nope. Mug from a service station shop? Not a chance. Personalised birthday card? Dream on, Sian. It seemed to matter in the 1970's world of novelty items. Funny, now. And so, that's why my little copper bracelet became so important. I spotted the "any name engraved" sign in a shop when I was on holiday at the seaside, and I begged , and I was allowed to order one. I picked it up the next day and the shiny copper sang out that I was Sian, and life was good. Best holiday souvenir ever. Even if it did turn my arm green.

Things are different now. I spend a lot less time in queues since I became Mrs Fair. But I've grown to like my name. It makes me think of those lovely words "I came into the world with nothing and I'll leave with nothing but love". We arrive with nothing and what's the first thing we are given? A name. The first thing anyone chooses just for us. That's worth holding onto. That's precious. I don't really need the bracelet - or even the copper stained green arm - to remind me.

And that's my story done for this month. If you have one of your own to share - and I very much hope that you do! - write your post, introducing it as a Storytelling Sunday story, and come over and link us up. It doesn't have to be about anything precious: we love all kinds of stories here and we promise to give it our full attention. Everyone welcome!