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My Dad used to leave his spare change in the top drawer of a wardrobe so that we kids could regularly snitch just enough to buy a bar of chocolate; but no more. He knew it and we knew it; but nothing was ever said.


My father had his spare change lined up across the top of his lowboy. He had it in for 50 and 5 cent pieces, and tried to get rid of them as soon as possible.

I'm like you, Jude, a financial pedant, and try and give exact change at the local IGA etc as much as possible. But recently I've bought a new wallet that spews out coins once the zip-up compartment reaches a certain high water mark, so I've taken to throwing spare coins in my swimming bag for pool entry.


My mother-in-law would always throw her spare change into the bottom of her purse and disregard it altogether. One day, when she was here visiting, the kids got her to dump all of the accumulated coin onto the table. They counted it and rolled it and came up with some astounding amount: more than $100 in coin, which the kids got to keep! Grandma walked more lightly after that.


It's surprising how loose change mounts up. My son empties his pockets of change every night into a large tin and buys something for himself at the end of the year. He usually has about $1500 to spend from just one year's collection.

Pat the Chooks

Looks remarkably like my bedside table as well, right down to the Swiss Army knife, without which I would not be. The difference is that my knife is blue, being a replacement for a trusty old one that finally disappeared into the long grass in the garden a few weeks ago. I haven't got enough small change to leave it behind me every day, so it gets gathered up in the morning and back into the trousers for papers, parking, postage and the like. Men are habitual creatures, probably a mechanism evolved to allow for the fact that most of us can't walk into the next room and remember why we went there in the first place.

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