When I was a child I longed for, of all things a ‘Fox Fur’. I thought they were the most wonderful things ever and loved to see the ladies of the 40s and 50s on the TV with furs draped around their necks. They all looked so sophisticated. My Nana listened to me talking about how much I longed for one and one Sunday when she came for dinner she brought me one. I don’t know where she got it from but when she saw it she must have thought of me. There at last in our house, in all it's furry glory was a Fox fur.
Now you would think that I would have been over the moon to finally have one of my very own but no. I disliked it the minute she gave it to me. I had to pretend it was wonderful and thanked her for getting it for me but I wouldn’t try it on and it lay over the headboard of my bed for a while and then disappeared. I have no idea where it went, it just wasn’t there anymore.
Skip forward 35 years (or more) to Ste Marie du Mont in Normandy, July 2011 where we found an old antique shop that sold items from WWII. While Samuel and John were checking out the guns etc I was looking at all the old clothing from the period. While mooching in a small back room I found a fur. Not a Fox fur but a Stoaty/Weazly type, with two heads. I had to try it and now all those years later there is a picture of me wearing a fur. I have to admit to only wearing it for the photo and then it went straight back on the shelf. I still don’t like them but it brought back very fond memories of Nana.
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