My House; wooden box of miscellaneous treasures, 4:30pm 21st Dec

My House. The "scene of the crime" so to speak, where many of my happiest and unhappiest memories occured.

It was the hub, the nucleus of my earliest hoarding activities and tendencies... the place where some of the objects orginally began their placing.

For me it is an essential part of not only my childhood memories, but my first 16 years living in the Falklands... the memories of home within my home.

In order for my Falkland memories to 'belong' to me, yet to be stored within my mind critically and comfortably, they need to be stored somewhere I consider safe; somewhere I know I will alwyas be waiting for me to come back...