Category: FAMILY

Time Flies at Supersonic Speed

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Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Well, I’ve been ‘fraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I’m gettin’ older, too “Landslide”, Fleetwood Mac

I had a very strange experience yesterday. I was at a routine hospital appointment, waiting in a corridor to be called in. I suddenly remembered sitting the the exact same spot, outside the same room with my daughter when she was about seven years old. She will be twenty two tomorrow. I was overcome with the feeling that, if I turned my head, I would see my little seven year old daughter, wearing her stripy school pinafore, floppy hat and navy blue leather T Bar shoes sitting there next to me. I could feel her there, swinging her little legs, so palpably. I felt almost overcome by sadness at how quickly the years have passed.

In June 2025 I had three children living at home. My daughter was on work placement for her degree, my oldest son was preparing to move into a house with his partner and my youngest hadn’t yet gone off to university. Now they are all living away from home and my husband and I are rattling around in our house. Seeing my youngest go off to catch the train back to his university town after Christmas was hard, he has a whole other life that I know almost nothing about now. He is quite guarded about what he shares, everything is “chill” and fine apparently, I hope so.

I went to a drinks party at London Bridge on Saturday and, on the train back, there was a family of four sitting next to us. I could only see the husband and two grown up children as the mother was in my blind spot. All I could see of her were her badly scuffed boots, frayed trousers and shabby handbag which was odd because the rest of her family were dressed head to toe in expensive clothes. When we reached our destination the family stood up to get off as well and I saw the woman’s face and immediately realised that I knew her, she and I even had coffee at each other’s houses when my youngest son and her daughter were tiny and attending the same play group. I wondered if she spent all her time looking after the rest of her family and had failed to notice that she could do with a bit of TLC herself. I nearly said hello but then the penny dropped that it had been seventeen years since we had last spoken. We did that polite thing of pretending not to recognise each other. She was probably thinking that I haven’t worn too well myself! How could almost two decades pass so quickly?

I am feeling a little melancholy after Christmas. I think I probably also have a touch of Empty Nest Syndrome. It is my day off and I visited my parents who now need my help far more than my children. There is a solitary snow boot in the corner of their bedroom, it is covered in a thick blanket of dust. It’s been there for years. Today I decided I was going to insist it is finally thrown away. Dad stopped me saying Mum, who is totally housebound, might decided to go for a walk in the snow. In one boot? My highly intelligent Dad seems to have convinced himself that Mum is going to miraculously recover from her Alzheimer’s disease if he looks after her well enough. I did manage to throw away a dozen cans of air freshener though so my visit wasn’t a complete decluttering failure.

I have a letter from my grandmother in which she says time passes so quickly. It has been in my jewellery box for forty years and I have never been able to bring myself to re-read it. Now I know exactly what she meant. It seems as if in the blink of an eye a year has passed. As I drove home from the hospital a beautiful song called “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac came on the radio, it summed up my mood perfectly.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

Cover photo – A timepiece from the V & A Cartier exhibition

Things That Get On My Nerves – Possibly One in a Series !!😠

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Maybe it is just me but, as I have got older I feel I am becoming a little less easy-going. This week a lot of people and situations have got on my nerves so I shall have a vent here.

Firstly, I sold two items on my local Facebook Marketplace page. A huge soft toy and a new Pandora Charm. Within minutes of my listings being approved I received messages from two women saying they’d like the items. I arranged times with them to collect and waited in. And waited, and waited and waited. Neither of them turned up or replied to my messages. This has happened to me so many times. Why waste other people time like this? Don’t they feel in the least bit guilty? A couple of years ago I was giving away a hamster cage and the same woman didn’t turn up three times. My husband was cross with me for letting her mess me around and still have the item. Another time I was giving away an enormous framed picture. After saying she’d like it a woman said she couldn’t collect and could I drop it off? Like an idiot I set off in search of her house, which literally didn’t exist. She told me she lived at number 110 but there was no such number in the street. I pulled over from outside 109, messaged her and she replied with ten laughing emojis , she had given me the wrong street name. Hilarious! So then she told me it was a block of flats on a corner, which corner was a mystery, there were two corners and two blocks of flats. Exasperated, I parked and asked her to walk to my car. She told me she couldn’t as she had two sleeping children (I later discovered after snooping on her profile they were about fifteen years old) so I lugged this heavy picture to her flat. She opened the door in her pyjamas, it was four o’clock in the afternoon. What a mug I am. I got home and blocked her .

Today I took a pile of freshly washed and ironed clothes to a charity shop on my local high street. I have a rule that, if I am going into town I whizz around my house having a quick declutter before leaving home. I got to the counter and the man behind the till was reading a magazine. I asked where to leave my donation and he just said “nope”. He didn’t even glance up. I asked what he meant and he grunted “we’re full”. Charming. Fortunately the next shop was grateful for my freshly laundered items.

Then there’s the person who, in an almost empty car park, parked so close to me that I had to scramble over the passenger seat to get into my vehicle, what’s that about? Walking along our street my daughter stepped into the road to make room for an elderly woman to pass. Instead of thanking her the elderly woman gave my daughter a filthy look. Years ago my oldest son would accompany me to drop my daughter off at nursery and every morning he would open a door for the same woman and her pushchair. She never once smiled at him or said thank you. After this happened a dozen times I told him to let her struggle with the door herself. Maybe not the best example but she deserved it.

All these little annoyances add up don’t they? I need to remember that using Facebook Marketplace is never a good idea and that some people have no manners. Deep breaths!

Thank you for reading

Samantha

Cover photo by Nik on Unsplash

Angry People & How To Avoid Them

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I had a horrible encounter this week which left me really shaken. My son travels to school by train and, most weekdays, I drive to pick him up. I always do a U turn before parking so that I am facing in the right direction to go home again. So do all the other people collecting commuters. Anyway I checked the road was clear on both side and swung my car round when there was a startling blaring of horn. Another driver, a man of about sixty, had sped right up behind me and was incandescent with rage because I had held his journey up by a nanosecond while I completed my turn. He rolled down his window and spewed the most vile barrage of abuse at me. A sensible person would have just driven off but, I rolled my own window down and asked why he felt the need to be so aggressive. Oh my goodness, he went nuts. The veins in his neck and forehead were bulging and I’m sure he would have like to have hit me. There was a lone woman sitting in the back of his car looking sheepish and I wondered if she was his partner or if he was actually a taxi driver. Anyway I was quite shaken up by his frothing-at-the-mouth behavior but glad it had happened to me and not one of my children. I am sure that he would not have behaved that way had I been a big, burly man. I did also wonder how anyone can go through life sustaining that level of anger, would he go home and take it out of the people he lives with? My dad and my husband are both calm people who I have hardly ever heard raise their voices thank goodness, I’m just not used to being screamed at like that.

Then today I was in the supermarket when the woman behind me began to put her shopping on the conveyor belt before I had unloaded mine. It was a little irritating but I didn’t take much notice. However a couple of her items spilled over onto my own pile and the cashier rang them up as mine. It was easily sorted out and the woman whose shopping it was said “thank goodness you’re not one of those angry people”. Yes, angry people, they are everywhere and they frighten the heck out of me. My aunt, almost ninety, took her dog to the vet and pipped a woman in her twenties to the last parking spot. The young woman called my aunt a wh*re. How disgusting and unnecessary. If one of my kids spoke to an elderly lady in that way I would consider myself a failure as a parent. Again, my aunt, a feisty woman, was very shaken up .

My advice to my children who are all out in the world with these walking time-bombs, is avoid confrontation at all costs. If you are driving and someone irritates you don’t beep them, just let it go. Don’t make eye contact and don’t gesticulate. If you are at a bar or party and you sense the atmosphere become menacing, leave straight away. It’s just not worth it. I remember a man screaming at my mum at a bus stop when I was a very young child, these perpetually furious people have always been amongst us. Yes, they may be having a bad day but there’s no reason to take it out on the rest of us.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

University Work Placement Challenges

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It is the beginning of November and getting dark at 4pm. I find the approach of winter a little more difficult with every year that passes. The people opposite put a spooky figure onto their garden wall for Halloween and every time I look out of the window I shudder. Hopefully he will be put back in a cupboard soon. Somebody asked me today if I am all ready for Christmas which made me feel a little panicked. The answer is resounding no – I have hardly given Christmas a single thought. Humbug.

I should have gone to the gym today but instead had a bacon sandwich for lunch and sat on the sofa watching Katharine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart in the wonderful 1951 film African Queen. I actually managed to relax instead of sitting there thinking about all the other things that I should be doing.

My daughter came home from university for one night as she had an interview for her second work placement. She had to prepare a case study, PowerPoint presentation and travel into London. As I have mentioned in an earlier post Heading Back to University , finding these work placements is a stressful process for students and extremely time consuming. They cannot just submit their CV, every position requires a bespoke application. The university is at least a two hour journey from the centre of London which is where many of the companies are based and train travel is expensive, one company did reimburse my daughter the £75 fare. Many of the students apply to multiple companies and it can be confidence destroying if they receive a few rejections. Not finding a placement is not an option on this course so they have to keep on going down the list provided by the university. My daughter attended one interview where she was questioned by a panel of four people then asked to complete some maths papers, the position went to someone else on her course. This time she was up against her friend and housemate. My daughter’s friend was interviewed and gave her presentation but my daughter was only interviewed. When she got home she had to hurriedly pack her bag and head back out as she is finally getting away for a few days. Before she left she received a call from the university placement officer saying she had been offered the position. I could see the tension leave my daughter’s body but she immediately started worrying about her friend who will have to keep on searching.

My mother-in-law has now been in hospital for a month with pneumonia. She cannot go home until her carers have been trained in using a nebuliser. My husband said she appears astonishly calm and we suspect that she is being given some sort of sedative. It’s difficult to believe one of the busiest hospitals in London can spare a bed for this long but the real worrying will start when she goes home and begins the cycle of not letting her carers in or shouting at them so much that they refuse to return. She will be ninety years old tomorrow and her other sons have travelled from their homes abroad to spend some time with her.

So some little wins this week, my daughter has her placement and I managed to enjoy a lazy couple of hours. Hopefully my daughter won’t spend her week in the sun cathing up with her university work and will come back feeling refreshed.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

The spooky, and quite frankly sinister, view from my windows.

With Love and Squalor

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It is a beautiful day and I am not working.  It is 10am and I have already hung two loads of washing out on the line, popped to the supermarket to do some never-ending food shopping and dropped off an online return for my daughter.  As usual, I can’t relax.  I sit out in the garden and call my friend in the Isle of Wight for a catch up, we chat for fifteen minutes.  I then decide to sit and read my current book and chill out under the parasol.  Except that I remember how smeared the mirrors in the house are, they need a good polish, and the rug in the drawing room has soot on it, that needs a vacuum, the fridge door needs a spritz of Dettox and a wipe-down….  Why am I sitting, doing nothing, when my house is a squalid tip? OK, it’s not actually a squalid tip, just not the gleaming show home I would like it to be.   I head inside and start wearing myself out doing jobs that will only need repeating in day or two. What a waste of a sunny day.

For a few years I worked for a posh estate agent. It was my job to do the the viewings in the new build “luxury homes”, a job I thoroughly enjoyed most of the time. Everything was always gleaming and glossy but I would come home and my own house would look…tired. I live in a property built in 1760, it’s full of crooked angles and gappy floorboards. The local spiders make themselves right at home and invite their friends. At 265 years old my home is entitled to look a little knackered I suppose. I’m fifty five and some days I look quite knackered myself.

Most of my friends employ a cleaner.  I did have a succession of cleaning ladies, and one chap, when my children were younger.  Two were wonderful but several were just awful.  If I paid for four hours cleaning, I’d be lucky to get two.  I would always tidy before they came, clean the loo and offer tea or coffee every hour, in the end it was just easier, not to mention cheaper, to do it myself.  One local girl, who I nicknamed Lucy Lightfingers, stole from me. It was such a shame because I know she needed the job and I turned a blind eye when it was just dishwasher tablets and washing powder but soon money began to disappear and that’s not OK. In fact I see that she has set up an online business selling pre-loved designer handbags, possibly filched from the wardrobes of her clients.  I would quite like my vintage Fendi satchel back, bought with my hard-earned overtime money, in 1997.

When I visit certain friends, their houses are always pristine, how do people manage it when they have families?  It makes me feel inadequate. I do some sort of  housework every single day yet there is always a pile of mystery paperwork on the kitchen dresser, a ring on the glass coffee table where someone (my husband) has ignored the half dozen coasters and a thin layer of dusts forms on my glossy wooden floors no matter how often I clean them.

I try to remember that our homes are meant to be lived in and it is impossible to keep on top of everything all the time. My son had a story book , The Magic Lavatory, about a little boy, Jeffrey, who lived with an aunt who was so house-proud that he wasn’t allowed to play with anything for fear of making a mess, he just sat on the sofa all day until (spoiler alert!!) he was rescued by a magic toilet, nobody wants to live like that. Those of us with nice homes and family to share them with are incredibly lucky. If we have outside space then even more so. We all set ourselves up for failure sometimes by comparing ourselves, our homes, our finances and even our looks unfavourably with others. My seventeen year old son has actually put his M & S sandwich packaging in the bin. You have to celebrate the little wins.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

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Friends & Frenemies

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My Dad’s friend of over eighty years, Daphne, died recently, she was eighty eight. She had lived next door-but-one to him in a little village near Herne Bay when they were children during the 1930/40s. She then married a chap called John, also from the same little village. They all went to the tiny village school together. I took Dad to Daphne’s funeral and it was so moving to hear about how they had played in the garden of my grandparent’s little rented cottage all of those decades ago . It isn’t easy to imagine our own parents as children.

My daughter is twenty and, ever since she started nursery school, there has always been some friendship drama or another. Even now they are adults it still goes on although my daughter is the kindest soul you could wish to meet. There are two girls in particular that I would place under the fremeny category. They are real love/hate, competitive relationships. Girls can be incredibly unkind and hurtful to each other as can grown women. You do have to wonder where some people learn to be so nasty. Neither of my sons have ever had similar issues with their friends or perhaps it’s just that they are less willing to talk about their feelings.

I am fortunate enough to have at least half a dozen good friends but life changes over the years and this can impact even the most longstanding friendships. My friend Carrie and I met at a Sunday school party. I was dressed as a 1920s flapper and she was in Welsh national dress, I don’t remember why as she is from Essex! We were eleven. We went to secondary school together and always lived in the same town until 2001 when I moved to Kent. A few years later she moved to the Isle of Wight, a beautiful place but it is an effort to visit. Carrie and I used to take our children to playgroup together, stop at the bakers on the way back to my house where we would buy the most delicious belgium buns on the planet. Happy days! Even when I moved we would speak every day. Now it’s sometimes once a month. We both have part time jobs, aging parents and Carrie is now a very hands-on grandmother. She is busier than ever. I did go and visit her last summer and we had a lovely time just walking along the beach front chatting. If you know someone really well it is easy to pick up where you left off.

A former friend, Angela, was someone I met at work before I was married. We kept in touch and met up when we had our sons at around the same time but I always felt she was slightly judgemental. She claimed her son had never watched television or had eaten anything containing sugar. Oddly, her son knew the names of all the Teletubbies so something was a bit suspect. My oldest son spent a lot of time in hospital over many years and it was a difficult time in my life, especially when I had two, much younger children. Instead of being supportive I remember her ringing and huffing when I explained that my boy was ill again. I realised it was actually boring to her. She went on to tell me about her fabulous holiday in Jamaica and I never heard from her again. I looked her up recently and she is now a person-centred counsellor. I hope she is a better listener to her clients than to her friends.

I think the rules for being a good friend are simple, be genuinely interested in the other person, don’t cancel plans without good reason, only offer your opinion if asked, don’t be insensitive when things are going well for you but they are having a hard time, never criticise their husband or children and buy them a thoughtful gift on their birthday. Easy!

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Walter Randlehoff on Unsplash

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New York Nerves

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My seventeen year old son is going off on a school trip to New York and Washington tomorrow. He has a very laissez-faire attitude to preparation which is the polar opposite of my own. The long list of things I am currently worrying about includes :

  • Oversleeping and not getting to the school in time for the 3.45am drop off
  • Him losing his passport
  • Something being wrong with his ESTA and him being refused entry
  • The customs discovering his perfectly legal dermatologist prescribed medication that I haven’t disclosed to the school because he didn’t want to have it dished out by the teacher
  • His feet hurting as he has only just mentioned his second pair of trainers are too small
  • His debit card, which he just told me is badly cracked, not working
  • His wallet being stolen
  • The zip breaking on his bulging suitcase as he is packing every T Shirt he owns
  • Him not having enough smart clothes for the more formal visits
  • Us ignoring the teacher’s strange directive that boys can only wear shorts that come past their knees
  • Someone planting drugs in his suitcase
  • His suitcase going missing
  • Him not wearing his retainers
  • Him running up a massive bill on data using his iPhone

You get the neurotic picture. My other son left for Spain with his fiancée yesterday and my daughter is in Croatia with friends from university. I checked they both had appropriate travel insurance, gave them a hug goodbye and didn’t really give it too much thought. They know what they are doing. My youngest son is very intelligent but there is something about most teenage boys that is a bit dreamy, or at least that’s how they can come across. I fear he will be so busy chatting with his friends that he won’t notice somebody dipping into his backpack or his passport lying on the pavement.

Worry – what a colossal waste of life it is. My husband says it achieves nothing but that isn’t quite true. When I am anxious about something like this I find that making a list and crossing everything off makes me feel calmer and it also ensures nothing important is missed. After all, it wouldn’t be much fun walking around New York in the pouring rain if we hadn’t packed his waterproof, these things do matter. Worrying can certainly drain the pleasure out of life though and it is important to recognise when it is getting out of hand.

I am sure lots of people will think that teachers have a great deal, going on these incredible trips for free, but the amount of work that goes into organizing them must be enormous. In one day my son is vising the UN, the Museum of Modern Art and The Empire State Building. The responsibility of ensuring all these teens cross the busy roads safely, don’t sneak off trying to have a drink etc. would just about finish me off. I am sure they will all have a fabulous time. My son’s, rather overstuffed, suitcase is now packed, labelled and I am feeling much more relaxed already.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

Photo by Nik on Unsplash

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Slightly Less Stuff!

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In my previous post So Much Stuff! I was bracing myself for my annual March declutter. It is now nearing the end of the month and, even if I say so myself, I have been fairly successful. I have got rid of at least one hundred items and that is without even tackling my clothes. My usual method for attempting to declutter my clothes is 1) open wardrobe 2) stand in an overwhelmed trance wondering how I have accumulated so many similar garments 3) take one or two of the aforementioned garments out, say hmm to myself and them hang the garments back up 4) Close wardrobe door and go and sit down.

My daughter’s room has just been decorated and she spends most of her time at university so, when she came home for a week it was easy for her to see what she no longer needed. I donated, via FaceBook Marketplace, a pile of her hoodies, jeans, jogging bottoms and T shirts, all in good used condition. I listed them for free and three women messaged within minutes asking if they could have them. Obviously the items have to go to the first person who responds but I always message the others saying that, should I come across any other, similar items, I will let them know. My rule for giving things away like this is that the items must be clean and with no damage. I also insist that the person comes and collects it. Last year I spent an hour driving round trying to drop off a framed Dr Who poster. The woman who wanted it couldn’t even manage to give me her correct address and thought it was funny that she had sent me to the wrong road. Needless to say I was not laughing! If it is a more expensive item then I may list it for a small charge of £5 or £10 and then give my daughter the proceeds. It has become increasingly difficult to sell things in recent years although some of my friends swear by Vinted.

I shredded two recycling bags worth of old paperwork and also took three big bags of unwanted things to local charity shops. The challenge is to actually go to the shop and donate the stuff rather than driving around with it in the boot of your car for six month. These bags included a brand new wicker hamper that was taking up space in my cellar, It had been a gift containing Christmas food. The hamper was a strange shape and I kept thinking that I’d perhaps use it as an umbrella stand but, after three years, it was clear I was never going to get round to that and I only own one umbrella. I also donated about fifteen books, some clothes I had bought in a sale and never worn and was never going to wear, yet more hoodies, some decorative bowls, nine necklaces (all costume jewellery) and some new scented candles. I like scented candles but my husband and son are both asthmatic and they are not good for their lungs. I took some old shoes to the shoe recycling bins and two coats to the Salvation Army collection points. I dropped old reading glasses into the collection point at SpecSavers. I also went though my make up, some of which was about the same age as my youngest son who is seventeen, and threw about half of the items away.

So does my house now look clutter free? Don’t be silly! I have hardly made a dent. It is nice to know that most of the things will be reused and the woman who collected my daughter clothes was so grateful that I felt a little embarrassed. She said her daughter would be thrilled. Perhaps in April I will pluck up courage to tackle my own clothes. My friend Caroline suggested that she clear out my wardrobe and I do hers. Not sure I am ready to let someone else decide on what I should keep and it could be the end of a long friendship if one of us was insulted by the other’s judgement. It would be fun to have a rummage through somebody else’s things though!

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Onur Bahçıvancılar on Unsplash

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It’s All A Lot Of Oysters But No Pearls

On By samanthaIn FAMILYLeave a comment

The title of this post is taken from the song A Long December by Counting Crows and seems to sum this week up perfectly although, now I have started thinking about it, I realise there have been some nice moments.

I have been ridiculously busy at work, feeling overwhelmed and it seems that my email inbox is like the fairy tale The Magic Porridge Pot, it just constantly refills. For very email I deal with three more seem to pop in. I have come to dread the accompanying chime. My shoulders have been hurting because I have been tensely hunched over my desk, working at the speed of light, for seven hours at a time. I am not very good at taking breaks but I need to get up and stretch every now and again before I completely seize up.

I had a day off on Tuesday and was looking forward a a little rest but my husband had booked a man in to clean the carpets, he was due to arrive at 8am. Groan. Obviously the rooms had to be cleared of clutter (thank goodness for my March decluttering efforts, see my post So Much Stuff! ) All the windows had to be left wide open all day even though it was freezing. I messaged my friend to have a moan and she invited me over for a cup of tea. How lovely to have a friend who knows you are chilly and proffers a heated gilet as soon as you arrive.

My dad called me later, in pain with toothache. Having had the most awful, ongoing dental infection a couple of years ago I have great empathy for anyone suffering like this. My parents can no longer get to the NHS dentist and have started using the lovely but very expensive private dentist in our village. Fortunately she was able to fit Dad in for the following day and I arranged to spend the afternoon sitting with Mum. I had some numbing gel that helped while Dad waited to be seen. Poor Dad, he really looks after his teeth, flossing and using interdental brushes but has been beset with problems for years. The dentist extracted the tooth, the second in six months. It was at the back of his mouth so he doesn’t have a visible gap. Mum didn’t really want me at their house and kept telling me to go home which can be a little hurtful but I just have to remind myself that she doesn’t mean it. Or perhaps she does, I hope not.

I then received a letter from the NHS telling me I was being fined for not paying for my migraine mediation months and months ago. I have paid for my prescriptions my entire adult life but the pharmacist mistakenly put my migraine meds in with my HRT which I had pre-paid for. How I was supposed to know this is a mystery. My husband had collected the sealed paper bag and I didn’t open it for weeks. I tried explaining this to the NHS appeals team but it was like speaking to a brick wall and I paid the fine which was around £50.

My daughter came home from university for a week yesterday. It was lovely to see her although as soon as she was through the door she said her laptop isn’t working well. I am hoping that a replacement battery will do the trick. We have been spending the evenings watching a documentary on Netflix called HellCamp: Teen Nightmare. Parents spent $16,000 in 1989 to send their wayward teens off to hike in the Utah desert for months at a time or to be stuck aboard a boat for a year. Some children were used as slave labour . The most famous participant in one of these programmes was Paris Hilton. Thousands of American children still attend these camps despite the recent bad publicity. It is nice to snuggle up with my daughter and watch something together, usually while eating a giant bag of Chocolate Buttons.

So not the best week but, looking back, nothing majorly bad has happened. There are so many people in the world suffering terribly at the moment and my trivial problems are inconsequential in comparison. I have just been feeling tired, cold, headachy and a little frazzled. I have probably also been watching the news too much. The spring will soon be here and it will be nice to feel the sun for a change.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

Cover Photo by Dagmara Dombrovska on Unsplash

So Much Stuff!

On By samanthaIn FAMILY2 Comments

Stuff – if you are fortunate enough to live in a first world country the chances are you own too much of it. I seemed to spend my twenties, thirties and forties accumulating things and now I am trying to get rid of most of it. What a colossal waste of time and money. In my dining room I have an ugly silver tray with three crystal decanters I received as a wedding gift displayed on it. I have never once used any of them in the twenty nine years that I’ve owned them. I only notice them when I’m dusting. Somebody, I can’t remember who, probably spent a lot of money on them and it makes me feel guilty to think about lugging them all to a charity shop, I doubt I’d be able to sell them . Who uses decanters anymore? My husband is decorating my daughter’s bedroom and, even though she is not an acquisitive person and has lots of her possessions with her at university, the clutter is spilling over into the rest of the house. Fleecy blankets, toiletries, sporting trophies, odd bits of jewellery are on every surface and it is driving me mad.

Every year at about this time I start decluttering. Three years ago I made it a serious project and I am pleased to say I still have empty cupboards where I have resisted replacing any of the items I got rid of. Anytime I am going to the local high street I make a point of having a look around the house first for items to donate to one of the many charity shops. My wardrobe is still full to bursting with clothes that I never wear though. The more I have spent on an item the more reluctant I am to let it go. I have two pairs of leather boots that I have worn about twice because they are too wide at the calves and it is really time to say goodbye to them. I tried selling them for a bargain price on the local Facebook page but the woman who said she was going to buy them didn’t turn up and they have languished at the bottom of my wardrobe ever since. I also have a collection of worn-once evening dresses that really need to go along with the various strappy heels I bought to wear with them. My feet hurt just looking at them.

Something I did manage to part with was the collection of Lladro ornaments I had received from a particular relative over a number of years (I hope she never reads this!). I bit the bullet and dropped them all at the charity shop. Our local British Heart Foundation shop now emails once a bag of donations has been sold letting the donor know how much it raised. This is such a good incentive. A recent bag of paperbacks and scarves I dropped in raised an impressive £19.

My project for March is to have a ruthless clear out of my clothes, towels, bedlinen and paperwork. My coat cupboard is full of similar black padded coats, some I have had for twenty years. I need to give most of them a quick rinse in the washing machine and then drop them off at the Salvation Army collection point. I will report back once my decluttering project is underway. In the meantime, if you are in need of any boots….

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Onur Bahçıvancılar on Unsplash