I am currently moving house, from a very shabby student house to a slightly less shabby one. Just down the road. On a slightly smaller hill. Which I haven’t actually seen yet (more about this later).
Suffice to say that Esther has made me give away tho thirds of my belongings and I am in mourning. Except all my black clothes are in the Age UK collection van on the way to the HQ, so I am wearing normal clothes and looking miserable.
Here is the solemn body count:
- 15 black bags of clothes
- 4 boxes of records (farewell Duran, Spandau, Wham, early Beatles and late Bowie).
- My priceless collection of The Face and ID magazine from the 90s (which Esther isn’t even impressed that I threw away “They’re just rubbish. You shouldn’t keep rubbish”)
- Countless accessories and shoes and things that are neither one thing nor another but are just nice to have around.
Next week I shall be back with more exciting tales of boredom and ugliness.