The Wrong Stuff

If anyone has a shortage of stuff, let me know. I think I have enough stuff to fill three to four cruise liners for a transantlantic voyage. I've been accruing it since birth and although I have made every effort to slow down over the past few years, my stuff count does not seem to have dropped.

There's nothing like moving house to freak one out. Where the hell am I going to put even a tenth of all this? I'm moving in to a small, purpose-built flat, not a sprawling stately home in Yorkshire. Space is limited. I am bewildered and dazed. I know I should throw half of it out but I don't feel sane enough to make reliable decisions at present, so instead I'm just packing everything and hoping that I'll turf most of it out on arrival. It's a stupid way to do things but I see no alternative.

Possessions are so annoying. I know they're, like, totally un-Zen, totally capitalist, totally wrong - but when I pick up the Winnie the Pooh folder that contains my 10 year old masterpiece about an alien who visits London, causes mischief and makes a getaway on a supermarket trolley, I just find it impossible to throw it away. I have several hundred pens in perfect working order and the idea of consigning them to the rubbish bin is thus fairly abhorrent. Giving them away would be fine but given the number of other things on my To Do List, donating second hand pens is not high up on my priorities. Of course, I should take most of this stuff around to the nearest primary school or charity shop but really, do they want a dusty David Beckham doll (circa 1999) or a Furby whose vocabulary is limited to 'Oooooh, big sound!' and 'Woah!'? Or some half-sharpened coloured pencils or some slightly uncomfortable shoes in size 10? I think not. Thus, embarrassed about my tattered and sentimental mountains of stuff, I pack them nonetheless and am clinging on to the thought that once I see how little room I have for this genre of junk at the new place, the discarding process will commence.

Tomorrow will be hectic, hopefully fun and, I think, slightly sweaty. On the upside, all the heavy lifting will compensate for the exemplary Moving House snacks I purchased in Marks & Spencer after work this evening, including chocolate cornflake clusters and hot cross buns. I am weak with excitement.