My collection of books,newspapers and other stuff has been growing very satisfactorily,despite the hopes of executives who introduced hot-desking.
Each orphan earring I own is a relic in my personal museum - the aftermath of an attempt at a micro-reinvention or a relationship break-up.
Each time I buttoned them up I felt transformed from a twenty-something aspiring writer to a fully-fledged adult who knew things.
I gave away my own CD collection when we moved into our house 12 years ago. My hoarder husband was having none of it.
No one in my family remembers where the porcelain rabbit money box came from,only that it has always been there.
“Is it from a packet?” was my grandmother’s grandest insult upon tasting a cake baked by her progeny.
There are three immovable orange objects in my house. One is very soft,one is very comfortable,and the third is a cheap piece of plastic that no one else would give a second thought.
It can be a massive hassle,but I’ve never gone without at least one CRT TV in my house. The hardest part is choosing which one to keep.