In Limbo

We're kicking our heels a bit at the moment;  there's a big gap in our lives that used to be filled by Marion's mum; we can't get started on the renovation of the new house in Framlingham as we aren't due to complete on the purchase for another week or so and we can't go to St Andrews as our house is on the market and we want to be around for viewings. 


So we've decided to make a start on getting ready to move. Now that may be five or six months away yet but there's a lot of sorting to do. We started on the easy stuff and the local charity shop has a lot of fresh stock including some excellent business suits by leading labels (not only way too big for me but not needed in the retirement world) together with similar stuff from Marion's wardrobe. That was not too much hassle and the whole first floor of the house is now down to what we're taking with us when we move. 

I wish that were the case for the loft. It's stuffed to the rafters with boxes of stuff we've accumulated throughout our married life. Despite several tips to the tip we seem to be making very little headway and we really do need to decide what (if anything) is worth keeping. We are paying the penalty for buying so many books for the kids (and holding onto them all) as all of the boxes in the left hand photo above are full of them (and  there are several layers more behind). They were all looked after beautifully but it will be years before our grandchildren are at an age to appreciate them so we have the choice of finding somewhere to store them in the new house or taking them to the charity shop.


It's the same with toys (most of the boxes on the right). We've still got a lot of Paul's transformers and He-Man stuff and Sarah's Sindy House and everything else that Sindy has and much, much more. There are their school reports - there are Marions school reports - there are even my school reports and loads of our exercise books. We aren't hoarders like those people you see on the TV but why do we do it? So that one day in maybe twenty years time our kids can go through the loft and say "what on earth are we supposed to do with Dad's history essays from 1967 or Mum's poetry from 68?" and conclude that the best place for them would be the tip. So hard as it may be, I think that's going to be the solution and hopefully in two or three weeks I'll post a photo of an empty loft space (and our new lumbar supports). In this digital age when the equivalent of all those books will fit on something smaller than a paperback and homework is done on the laptop I imagine that we are the last generation that will be faced by this dilemma; our grandchildren will have a couple of memory sticks (or whatever has replaced them in fifty years' time) and houses won't need lofts.


Apart from clearing stuff out we're keeping ourselves busy by getting back into the gym and finding a bit of time to meet up with friends who we are going to miss so much when we move. We've got lunches planned for Friday and Sunday (it's starting to feel like a farewell tour already). Marion nipped out for a coffee with her friend Sue at 2pm, it's now gone five and I'm about to organise a search party. No doubt a couple of waitresses somewhere will be sighing and looking at their watches and wondering when, if ever, they will get home.