My decluttering project is going ahead very very slowly. Yesterday there was a unexpected boost. Instead of having a nap (what’s better than a nap on a hot Saturday afternoon? No, don’t answer that!), I tackled two boxes near the bookcase and three boxes in my study.
The two near the bookcase were full of uni notes from my psychology and statistics days. I looked at the stats and nearly passed out at the idea of tackling those things again. How on earth did I ever pass third-year advanced research methodology? I must have been some sort of Superwoman. I found a number of DH’s papers and brochures, old candy (???), hotel supplies that someone had swiped (do we need more tiny shoehorns, unlatherable soap and cotton balls?), stuff for the fax machine and more.
In my study I consolidated the contents of two small boxes, threw out several bags of paper for recycling, smaller pile for shredding, found some pretty card that I’ll send to a friend who likes that style, and then … ah, the treasure! Not my photo album. That is still on my “to find” list. But nearly as good. These were my scrapbooks and my exercise books from primary school.
Obviously Mum tried to keep me occupied during school holidays while she worked. I know I spent a lot of time playing in the backyard, on the swing, reading, etc. She must have set me more work: one of the exercise books is a diary. I would have been nearly six years old when I wrote it. I have to say that my writing was OK but I was never going to be a grand success as an artist.