Roots

My father died last month and at the weekend we were clearing out his house ahead of selling it. It was a sad affair and more final in some ways than the funeral, as the last physical traces of a long life - he was in his 90s - were alternately packaged away for the charity shops or binned.

There were few momentos to be had but I was happy when I came across these few items: a set of ebony-handled hairbrushes and a pair of armbands. The hairbrushes in particular made me smile because as a kid I always hated them; the bristles are like steel and no matter how gently you try to use them, they always scrape deep into your scalp. However, they are important to me because they represent a link not just to my father but to my grandfather also. He was a hairdresser to trade and these came from his shop. He died before I was born so it's good to have something tangible of his as well.