I am firmly convinced that everyone should move house more often. Anyone who has been through this experience will know exactly what I mean.
Just as fat piles up on our bodies, inch by insidious inch, possessions in the form of books, clothes, footwear, curios, tableware make their way into our homes so stealthily that we don't even notice the invasion.
The modern mantra of shop till you drop is taken literally by many people. So, the word ‘sale' sends the salivary glands into overdrive. There is a rush to the store in question before the best bargains are lapped up.
Some hours later we stagger out, laden with bags, one loop per finger. By the time we reach the car, red welts have formed on skin.
Shopping sacks slide off limp wrists into the back seat or boot depending on how many members have set out on this expedition.
On arriving home, the packets are emptied and then the search for space begins. Every cupboard is crammed. All that advice we've read about how we should discard a dress if it hasn't been worn for the past six months has been in vain. We have items of rarely-worn clothing that go back six years, not just months.
Finally, in exasperation, some of the contents of the cupboard disappear into the bowels of a duffle bag or suitcase, hoping for eventual resurrection. Place has been made for the newcomers and all is well with the world.
Time passes by and each time one spies one of these junk repositories one wonders what is stuffed inside. A vague promise is made to rid oneself of all this excess baggage. However, this is soon forgotten as one's attention is diverted by more pressing matters. Then a decision is made to change one's residential address. That's when the trouble starts. All that putting off will put you out now.
The only silver lining in all those clouds of dust that you unleash is the discovery of long-forgotten belongings which you had given up hope of ever retrieving. As you uncover item after item, there are many ‘aha' moments.
Lost and found
No one knows this better than me. During a similar exercise, I have discovered things in triplicate. Each time I couldn't locate something off I went to the shops to buy a replacement. No serious attempt was made to find the thing I needed just then. When a perfunctory search yielded no results, there was a fleeting regret at one's failing memory.
During the process of discard, reject and repack, I have been taken by surprise time and again as I add up the numbers. Why did I ever think I would need more than 20 pairs of shoes? And was it really necessary to buy so many decorative jars just because they were cute and available at throwaway prices? How had I convinced myself that those swathes of textiles would one day be transformed into dresses fit for a queen?
Then there were the swirls of yellowing paper. Some were cut out of a magazine or newspaper as a particular story or incident must have struck me as particularly rib-tickling. But why did I ever imagine I would have the time to read it over and over again? In fact, re-reading it now, I wondered what was so special about it. Had my standards fallen or become more sophisticated?
Letters, postcards and birthday cards had also been secreted away by the magpie in me. Wasn't this the age of instant communication? When was the last time I wrote a letter? So, were these mute testimony to a way of life that had surrendered to the sands of time?
Whatever the reason for hoarding, make sure you have the space for your passion.
