Once upon a time, when I was a wee lass, I was the tidy one. My side of the bedroom was always neat. (Sis & I chose to share a bedroom when we were young for many years, even though we had a spare room) In fact as my parents like to remind me, I would tidy messy big sisters side of the room for a pound a go.
As I’ve gotten older, I have become a bit of a collector. I collect books, tea cups, in fact pretty china in general, royal memorabilia, vintage radios…the list is on going. Always a new thing to add. Sparkly pretty things I just can’t leave in the shop. There are wicker baskets around my house, (oh I have a bit of a thing for wicker baskets too) filled with wool, books, toiletries, china… Sometimes I dream of a bigger house, but really the truth is it’s like the age old hand bag problem. The bigger it is, the more junk you carry around with you.
I do have an inner fear of becoming the subject of a BBC documentary. Sister has threatened that if I die first she’s getting a skip.
So the last couple of weeks I’ve taken a deep breath and decided that my bank account would benefit from a cull.
I’m proud of myself.
The above picture is a case in point. These magazines I could not thriw away or even give away, but really, I would never ever read them again, so why am I keeping them? Well they are going to their new home tomorrow to sit on someone else’s shelves.