|Guess we'd better get rid of that plastic spear then.|
Spending a year on my PGCE gave me the perfect excuse for avoiding my most hated task – clearing out.
A day spent clearing out always feels like a day wasted. And what do I have to show for an entire day of clearing? – a square foot of floor, or a yard of shelf.
Curiously it is not only essential but also not worth it, both at the same time.
What makes the process last so long are the emotional booby traps. Sandwiched between the strata of unloved school exercise books will be a hand-drawn fathers’ day card or a painting of our long-deceased guinea pig. Little explosions of affection and nostalgia detonate in my heart. My judgement begins to falter – how can I throw out anything from my children’s infancy when it was such a precious time? I should treasure each sacred artefact.
But my nearly-grown-up children still come home and when they do, they don’t want to find their rooms like museums stuffed with ancient objects – they want somewhere to sling their rucksack and a shelf to store their shot glasses until next term.
So I scoop up another armful of physics notes and pile them into the recycling box.