A lovely day today teaching a one-to-one stringing and wirework lesson. It's not until I teach these classes that I remember how much I enjoy simply stringing and playing with beads. It's something I would do more of but I guess I have enough strung pieces I never wear already, I don't really need to add to the pile!

After class it was a trip over to see one of my sisters for her birthday and a cheap and cheerful meal out at a local Turkish restaurant. Then it was back to her house for much discussion on wedding outfits (just 19 day to go now until my other sister's wedding).

Whilst there I suddenly spotted all these little people living on her window. How cool are they?

Just as I thought it couldn't get any better, she showed me the secret one jumping off her shelf.

I just about resisted the urge to ask her if she had named any of them or had any favourites. I know I would say yes to both questions if these people were mine. I guess I read 'The Indian in the cupboard' too many times when I was younger but the idea of having lots of tiny people around fills me with joy.

Whilst staring with jealousy at her shelf (at least she didn't have any medals, that would have tipped me over the edge) I spotted a simple item which acted as a time-machine and took me back 'cough, cough' years to being 8 and playing with it in the bath. I think this whale bath toy was given to my youngest sister (the baby of the family who is soon to be married) when she was born and I remember playing with it in the bath and taking it apart endlessly. For who knows how many years this has not figured in my life, or my brain, but suddenly the memories came flooding back and I could remember its feel, the different patterns on the different layers it splits into, the feel and sound of water gushing through it and even the taste of the bath water mixed with soap and shampoo I would inevitably swallow as I splashed around. It was a shock to have something so small and simple evoke such strong memories.

Talking of memories, after my recent trip to see Erno Goldfinger's house I mentioned it to birthday sister and began explaining who he was and why I loved his work so much only for her to answer 'I know Erno Goldfinger, I studied under his grandson, Nick'.

There's no answer to that really. Apart from what I did which was to shout 'no way' and stare at her wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

I had put the information that she was a qualified furniture maker, and has been a teacher of the subject, somewhere in the back of my brain and forgotten all about it.

So now I am triply jealous as she has met one of the Goldfingers, can make furniture and has little people in her house.