The winds of change are howling as a daunting decluttering gets underway

A COLD wind is sweeping through the house. But it doesn’t originate from any point on the map, unless there is a cardinal direction on the compass called ‘CHANGE’. Yes, a howling Change-rly gale is whirling, leaving a trail of neatness in its wake.

We are decluttering and nothing is safe. It was triggered before Christmas. We had some people over. Nothing too big or fancy, just good company, sparkling conversation about changing the world, and eating Aldi’s kettle-cooked crisps (emptied into a bowl, not from a packet). We had to do a bit of a tidy, because people at gatherings, as is their wont, like to sit down.

The tidy you do before visitors is the shortest-termist one you’ll ever do. We just moved all the shite upstairs. There was no time to consider whether a piece of metal with a screw hanging out of it, or one lone wellington-sock, deserved to have a place in our house. For now, they were shunted to another place to await trial. No visitor was to be allowed upstairs, unless it was absolutely necessary.