My red box of memories

Not so much a red box of memories as a black and grey box of memories. The old fishing box that my brother and I used in Brazil has been sitting in my parent's loft for a while now, so I thought I'd dig it out and have a look through it. I was tempted to give it a clean, but I rather like that it's still covered in dirt that's come straight from the banks of the Araguaia river. It's like having a little bit of Brazil right here in the house.  And when my wife suggested I throw away the empty ...