The holiday period is approaching. I can't quite see it in the distance but I can hear it. It sounds like a clean house, decidedly un-suitlike clothes and impractical handbags covered in roses.
I love needlepoint purses so badly that a while ago a few of my friends planned to stage an intervention. It would have made no difference. This one is a particular favourite. The woman who sold it to me insisted the original owner/maker was an airline pilot in the Second World War. Sometimes the thought thrills, other times it seems unlikely.
No matter. It is a wonderful purse.These grand old purses frequently include a small coin purse of matching taffeta tucked inside. Not this one. I like to think the owner stared defiantly at her needleworking mates, squeezed her mouth very tight and declared, "The hell with your taffeta! My coin purse will have roses too!"
And it does.
