Every Saturday afternoon with a newly acquired shiny pound coin in my pocket, I would skip happily to the row of shops located near my house. One shop in particular always enthralled me. It was a small corner store where you had to angle yourself walking through the door for fear of disturbing the fragile wares which balanced precariously, adorning every free space. Once inside, you were enchanted by the sweet aroma of pot pourri in an Aladdin’s cave of treasures. At least that’s what it was like for me. Sparkling crystal, luxurious silks and vibrant artworks covered every inch of the tiny shop. Of course, I could not afford to buy anything but occasionally I would purchase some coloured glass pebbles or perhaps a small bejewelled hat pin which I would wear as a brooch. But to my seven year old imagination, these were priceless artefacts that would become pirate loot or be found in a long-lost Egyptian tomb in the games I played with my sisters. The items themselves may have had no great monetary value but the places they took me where priceless.