Take what you have gathered from coincidence....

I have a friend who can fit all his worldly goods into one bag. In contrast I'm presently looking at two big black bin bags which are all full of underwear. I have a problem with knickers. Whenever I was having a rubbish day down the book mines I would buy a new pair of knickers. Really bad days necessitated the bra too. At the time I thought this was somehow a healthier indulgence than wine or cake. Foolish woman.

I'm pruning my stuff. Actually, that is something of an understatement. It's all got to go. By Sunday morning my worldly goods will consist of the contents of four cardboard boxes, two suitcases, and one satchel. It's brutal. I always thought that I wasn't especially materialistic. Quelle crock. I have so much stuff. Some of it is just the stuff which grown ups have, washing machines, book cases, potato ricers, 37 wooden spoons, televisions, beds, trifle bowls, etc. That stuff is quite easy. I've put it all on Freecycle, and now spend most of my waking hours chained to my in box. Nice people come to my house, and take the stuff away, and they say Thank You, and I get the glow of karmic smugness. The massively sentimental stuff is also easy to deal with. There is no way I'm not taking my cut out and dress Clem doll, my cross stitch sampler I made at primary school, or the 35 notebooks which I may one day write a best selling novel in. Books, music, and films are also quite easy, as they no longer have to exist in a physical form. Actually, as an aside, I just went out for coffee, and as I sat there listening to music, reading The End of the Affair on my Kindle, and checking emails it occurred to me that I've become one of those people. So, I took out an actual notebook and made a list and did a doodle. Phew, Lo fi credibility  restored. What I'm struggling with is the kind of mid brow stuff , which serves no practical purpose, but which I have simply because I never got rid of it. Things like a seemingly endless supply of silk flowers which I pinch from a local bar whenever I'm drunk, or a cloth owl with a charming beak. I don't need this stuff. It's just clutter. I have become quite staggeringly ruthless with it. I like the idea of being unencumbered, of being able to carry everything I own with me, like some kind of Kerouac character, only with nail polish, false eyelashes and 86 pairs of knickers.