This is 'The Day That'…

… my dad held my son for the first time.

Do you have a special day? One that you want to remember with a unique, personalised gift? Enter my 'The Day That…' competition to win a £250 'The Day That…' framed print and you could do just that. More details here.

  • Chose your favourite picture of your own special day;
  • Post it on your blog. You can write about it too, but how much you write is up to you – there may be a story behind the photo that you want to share, or it may be that the photo says it all;
  • Somewhere in the post add the following statement (including the link):
  • Add your post to the competition linky below before 15th August 2012 at 9pm.

A panel of judges will carefully go through every link, looking for a picture that they think best captures the essence of your special day – a picture really does paint a thousand words after all. They don’t have to be technically perfect; we’re looking for emotion and inspiration.

Oh and could you please link this post in somewhere too? Just so other people know where to come to enter!

And that’s it. Pretty straightforward isn’t it? Create your The Day That… blog post and add it to the linky now for your chance to win.



Little Legacy: Matilda Duck

Penny over at Alexander Residence has come with a lovely idea for a linky:

Little legacy is a remembrance project, a positive and creative place, to celebrate small things handed down by predecessors.  I am going to post one every Thursday. If you want to join in at any point, either as a project or a one off, there's a linky below and more information here. 

I wanted to take part because I instantly thought of Matilda. Unfortunately I can't show you a photograph of her as she if carefully wrapped up in a box in the attic. I shall have to describe her.

Matilda is a small, intricate, metal duck sat in a metal nest. The whole thing is about the size of an egg, with Matilda hinged on one side so that she lifts up and small objects can be places inside. For several decades she resided behind the sliding glass door in my Nan's cabinet, awaiting the arrival of her owner's four grandchildren of differing ages to squeal with delight over what she had laid. Magically, she laid different things; a few bronze coins, a jellybaby, a Fox's Glacier Mint, a creme eg. The possibilities of Matilda's magic was endless.

When my nan died, mum put her little trinkets out on the table and asked the four of us to choose things to remember her by. I eyed the contents and my shoulders sank to see the lack of Matilda. Mum noticed this and, after my brothers and sister had gone home, she gave me Matilda with the message that she had been saving it for me as she knew how much it meant to me.

Just writing this has filled my senses with the memory of my nan.

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