what barks joy in my heart?…. let the chaos, revelry and clear out commence!… see you on t’other side
*** updated with some words… to ‘honour the process’ and all that malarkey ***
ding! end of round 1… facebook mucking about aside (and what else could the medium be for?) … blimey that was traumatic!!
i know i’m supposed to say cathartic, but little evidence of that just yet.
firstly massive a dust mite sneezing from this hayfever sufferer
still i managed to liberate 5 stuffed bin bags from my own wardrobe, then a further 2 from the airing cupboard, straight away pronto recycling them down the tip
in truth i didn’t even imagine i had 5 bags full worth of clobber? amazing what we can manage to squirrel away!
the secret for me was to deal with the stuff with most emotional baggage first, whilst i still had some brio,
after that all the rubbish you never really cared about and seldom wear was easy…
the main downside being that barely/nary a single sock survived the cull, so if you see me skipping thru the snow in just a pair of sandals, you’ll know why!
oh and in no particular order the worst 3 emotional items this cancerian nostalgia hoarder managed to chuck:
… 2 t-shirts, one purple, one green that i’d meandered along the camino in, more holes than fabric!
i pretty much refuse to wear clothes unless they’re battered beyond belief, and have better personality than practicality these had been around since the late 90’s, then gone travelling round asia… the camino, where you wring everything out by hand after each days amble, was sposed to be their swan song, cept, of course, i carried on wearing them
… the last of the beautiful coloured alpacca wool cardies from otavalo, moth eaten to a string vest, older than Finn, from the time when pam and i met in South America and loitered in a lurid hued nest of them
… my down feather trekking jacket, beautiful bottle green, a north face fake from kathmandu, in this i floated over the Thorung La pass (5400m!) the zip broke years ago, and then it developed a leak, everywhere i traipsed there was a cloud o’fevvers, used to infuriate dad, who’d follow me around the house brandishing a hoover, ha!
anyway all nowt but history now