Feng Shui
The caravan has stood outside for years. In the 1980s and maybe even the early nineties my parents went on holiday in it. But as the years went on, its tyres have rotted and now it cannot be moved.
Since it is outside the window of the office where I work from home, and since it’s rather an eyesore, I have been plotting its departure for years, but never got quite as far as paying someone to bring a great big vehicle and take it away.
So when a man knocked on our door a couple of nights ago and asked if he could have it, because he wants to restore it to its former glory, we tried not to appear too eager, but probably did.
The problem is, though, that whenever a home has been sought for the kind of junk that needs to be kept dry but you can’t quite bring yourself to chuck away, “Let’s put it in the caravan,” has been the solution.
And today was the Day of Reckoning.
The only answer was to clear the cellar to put some of the caravan junk in the cellar until it can be further sorted. Meanwhile, the lowest class of junk, the Cellar Junk, is making its way onto the path to await the arrival of a skip.
Nobody except me can bear it. Stephen can’t bear throwing things away anyway and neither can Emily, who luckily is away this weekend with Gareth. The Communist is pictured here surveying the heap of junk.
Then my mother came out too and their Keep-it Chorus began. “But surely this piece of wood might be useful? Can’t this old heater be made to work? If you don’t want this newspaper holder, I’ll have it. I’m sure I can get the mould off this pink bag.”
And this, good people, is why this house is so chock full of junk that even the three or four large skips I have hired since we moved in and the dozens of trips to the charity shop have made very little dent in it. “Travel through life with only a rucksack” the saying goes. Will someone please say that to my family? Though I’m not going to throw away my old school books, obviously. Or the paintings Emily did when she was little. And hey, look, my notes from university. And these books look interesting – hey, South Africa and the Congo, I remember that, I’ll just keep that one. And this one. And what’s in this box?
Since it is outside the window of the office where I work from home, and since it’s rather an eyesore, I have been plotting its departure for years, but never got quite as far as paying someone to bring a great big vehicle and take it away.
So when a man knocked on our door a couple of nights ago and asked if he could have it, because he wants to restore it to its former glory, we tried not to appear too eager, but probably did.
The problem is, though, that whenever a home has been sought for the kind of junk that needs to be kept dry but you can’t quite bring yourself to chuck away, “Let’s put it in the caravan,” has been the solution.
And today was the Day of Reckoning.
The only answer was to clear the cellar to put some of the caravan junk in the cellar until it can be further sorted. Meanwhile, the lowest class of junk, the Cellar Junk, is making its way onto the path to await the arrival of a skip.
Nobody except me can bear it. Stephen can’t bear throwing things away anyway and neither can Emily, who luckily is away this weekend with Gareth. The Communist is pictured here surveying the heap of junk.
Then my mother came out too and their Keep-it Chorus began. “But surely this piece of wood might be useful? Can’t this old heater be made to work? If you don’t want this newspaper holder, I’ll have it. I’m sure I can get the mould off this pink bag.”
And this, good people, is why this house is so chock full of junk that even the three or four large skips I have hired since we moved in and the dozens of trips to the charity shop have made very little dent in it. “Travel through life with only a rucksack” the saying goes. Will someone please say that to my family? Though I’m not going to throw away my old school books, obviously. Or the paintings Emily did when she was little. And hey, look, my notes from university. And these books look interesting – hey, South Africa and the Congo, I remember that, I’ll just keep that one. And this one. And what’s in this box?
posted by Daphne at 8:17 pm
2 Comments:
A couple of months ago I had to clear lots of stuff out of the garage I rent so that I would be able to fit a car in it. Previously I had used it mainly to house my bicycles, stilts and some junk that was in too good a condition just to throw away including a double futon mattress. It's difficult to get rid of things like mattresses. I am a frequent donor to charity shops but you can't very well turn up at your local Age Concern shop with a double mattress. Then a friend mentioned Freecycle to me. This is a wonderful (Yahoo hosted) group where people can post messages offering goods they no longer want which otherwise might end up in landfill. You can also post wanted messages and I have responded to a few of those giving away things I didn't need like a spare spice rack and a redundant telephone. The person who took my futon bed mattress was extremely grateful and it was evidently a much needed item to them. I can highly recommend freecycle (http://uk.freecycle.org/), there are local groups all over the country, or indeed the world, and it's amazing what some people put on there as offered or wanted - including derelict old caravans.
Well said, Ruth - you beat me too it. Freecycle is helping me declutter here, too. It is important to set ones mail to Special Notices, though, otherwise one's inbox overflows with tempting offers...
Diz
(Moderator Stroud Freecycle)
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