Taking out the trash

Not that I'm going anywhere just yet, but, being at a bit of a lose end, I thought I'd start having a sort out of some of the crap that I've got.

The books are sorted. When we left the West End to come up here, I had a massive cull of books. I think that that was one of the hardest things that I've ever done.

Books are a comfort. But, realism takes over and, moving from a large three bedroom flat with a huge living room and a long hallway, to a rabbit hutch sized flat without room to swing a kitten, meant that a swingeing cull was necessary.

Anyway, having gotten over that hill, I don't have to weed the books again.

Tat of other kinds, though, lurks in every draw and cupboard. Just looking at the crap that I keep on my bedside table exemplifies this. Watches that I don't wear [one of which doesn't work], tie pins and clips for the ties that I also don't wear, cuflinks, likewise. Cigarette lighters that only need evil smelling petrol to bring them back to life and sundry bits of surgical steel jewelry for piercings long healed up.

With the exception of the car key, junk, the lot.