My Grandfather is dieing. A once strong and valiant man, it is as painful to view the undignified slip towards his tragic demise as it is to embrace the reality of being stripped of my last remaining grandparent at the tender age of 24. Having spent the majority of his adult life inhabiting the same crumbling cottage situated atop a grassy hill overlooking the Tywi valley it seems that this has allowed for quite a collection of acquired treasures (of low monetary value may i add!) A recent trip to Wales to rifle through his heaving cupboards brought many delights for a grandaughter interested in cherished objects. One of my many finds was a package of obsolete keys that despite lack of function have been residing in his drawer for many years. The envelope in which they nestled was as soft as butter having being fingered and tabbed by many. This little package is a testiment to the frugality of the lost war time generation. A generation who cherished and respected time honored traditions and spent their life really appreciating the value of things.