Across deserts and oceans, over snow capped mountains and through forests of tall, green trees, through marsh land and over city walls, through rain, wind, snow and sunshine, on we journey. Life goes round and round, up and then down, inside and out, left and then right, spinning us round and then shooting us up […]
My grandparents had a box of buttons. It was a small cardboard box held together with sticky brown tape and it was filled to the brim with buttons of every shape and size you could possibly imagine. There were shiny metal ones; large brown ones perhaps once belonging to an old teddy bear; there were small prim white ones from a crisp cotton shirt; there were discs the colours of Smarties. Some were old with peeling surfaces, some were as bright as a pin and some still had cotton thread woven around their middles. I loved each and every one.