I can well imagine crying over such a thing. I recently acquired the first jigsaw that I remember completing as children. The turquoise recycled card backs were every bit as evocative as the illustrated laminated fronts. I made a gift of it to my twin brother last month. In the kitchen there was little that held the same nostalgia – Mum was no cook – but I can still see the roasting pan that my twin and I once dropped onto the floor after an unsuccessful check and baste of the chicken midway through it’s cooking (we returned the disgraced and displaced bird back to the pan before anyone could find out). And a toffee hammer and pickled onion jars that belonged to Dad, and lived in the pantry which will forever be memories that feel almost tangibly heavy.