It seems that I may have kept my cigars in a biscuit tin after all.
Remember the ornate tin box I often described keeping my cigars in, the one that had been engraved with my mother’s (and my) initials that she’d used as a cheap jewelry box before I inherited it?
I don’t know if I’ve recorded this here or not but I think it may have been like this:
I have no idea when tins like this were commonplace, and the initials would have to have been engraved by someone in the family, but it’s interesting to think that perhaps I’d been keeping my cigars in a biscuit tin all along.
Still, if the tin belonged to my mother, then it may as well have been the most precious thing in the world. Of all the people I knew in that life, it is my mother I remember most clearly and miss the most.