Some pieces we have now unpacked,
Have for some time good cleaning lacked;
Left, shows how they can be improved
Before they ‘on display’ are moved.
The notes give dates, in late Mom’s hand,
Although, from what we understand,
At least one of the group may well
Be even older – time will tell!
Colonialist's Blog 
Yoh! Came over here thanks to Ark. Those are amazing, but what got me, was the writing. It was like seeing my late granny’s.
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And when one considers the horrible implements they had to write with … !
I was in school long enough ago to have been subjected to inkwells and scratchy blotchy nibs. The recollection makes me shudder.
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So was The Husband. We HAD to use fountain pens. Still have my mother’s.
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I still have SUCH fond memories of fountain pens, too. I know why they were called that: mine used to gush like anything.
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Not to mention the blue fingers…and actually, they were the nicest things to write with. Sad that we don’t write – really – so much anymore…
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I have almost forgotten how – but then, with writing novels and all, I have become a whiz at touch typing! (Not texting – I do one word per minute per haps!)
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I still start off with a pencil and paper when I start a new piece of work in my day job. To get the juices flowing, as it were. Then I take to the keyboard. Type better now than I did at school. Failed it hopelessly!
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Is that a leaf pattern on one? I’ve got one of those. Somewhere.
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Could be a leaf, but most of it seems like a flower perched on a small pineapple.
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Don’t polish them too much – you’re wearing away silver each time (I watch a lot of antique tv programmes). When I read your title in my reader, my first thought was “foot” and only then did I think of a silver spoon!
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Oops! I shall bring up the lustre and then house in an airtight display cabinet with something to dehumidify.
I only started putting my foot in my mouth when I learnt to talk – like loudly likening a woman’s hat to our wastepaper basket in a bus. Mama was mortified.
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At the age of 4, my foot in mouth was to remark about an advertisement for Phyllosan in the underground train. At the top of my voice I read ‘”Phyllosan, fortifies the over 40s”. That’s what you need, Mum’. My Mum was then probably about 30!
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NOT a good way of fostering maternal love! I am impressed with your reading abilities at that age, too. These days most kids of four seem hardly even at the C… A… T… stage.
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I seem always to have been reading.
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Popped out of the womb exclaiming, ‘Hey, look at those headlines, Mom!’ 🙂
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What beautiful keepsakes
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They certainly are: it is rather thrilling to have had something remaining in the family for all this time.
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You would be pretty dang old! Ha! Nice mementoes!
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Well, if it had been a christening present, I would, but another accepted theory for the origin is born into a family that already had wealth – and silver.
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Lovely. I wouldn’t doubt for a minute that you were born with one of these in your mouth, as befits any gentleman.
Reminds we haven’t polished the family (much more recent) silver in a while.
I’ve seen similar “couverts”, stamped with Queen Victoria’s cipher on the Nairobi-Mombasa train in the last century. A pity they were mixed with made in Korea stainless steel spoons. Such “décadence”. 🙂
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It seems scarcely believable, now, that trains would have genuine silver cutlery. The rot was setting in which has now descended to the depths of plastic disposables.
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That was some time ago, in 1988, when I decided to take my family (wife and daughters) to Kenya. Real, old silver was already sparse but still. The dining car had this “Orient-Express” flavour. Quite wonderful. Very few silver spoons. I think the tourists were already pinching them. (We seem to share, amongst other things, a certain hatred for plastic, you and I). Have a lovely week-end Leslie.
Brian
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That must have been an experience. Was it as recent as that when such decadence was still in evidence?
One of the things we did when starting married life was to contribute monthly to a supplier of Norwegian silver, gradually building up our dinner service. We only use it in company that is unlikely to collect souvenirs.
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Hehe… Count the teaspoons at the end of supper. Nonetheless. Have a great wee-end my friend.
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