Yet another skip filled. We’ve lost count of how many we have filled since we started clearing out this house eighteen months or so ago. But this really is it: the house completes on Friday and we are out. My father departed to a new home down the road a few years ago when my mother booted him for cavorting with multiple options. My mother has found a sweet cottage in a village across the fields and moves in Friday afternoon. The movers arrive tomorrow and spend the next two days packing everything up. God only knows how it will fit in. There is some serious downsizing to be done.
I’ve had to bite the bullet and pack up my last remaining possessions from the attic. Gritting my teeth, I shook out the bag with my childhood cuddly toys and put them in the skip, crying my eyes out. I kept Marmaduke the cat tho: he came away to boarding school with me, having been to boarding school with my mother in the 1950s. There are our Cash’s name tapes on each paw still.
Gibbon also escaped the skip. I found him in a cupboard in my grandmother’s wardrobe in Spain after she died – I exclaimed, “Gibbon”, even tho I hadn’t seen him for twenty years – he was always perched on her sofa, and was Granny Spain’s toy at school.
There’s also the Philip Somerville hat that my mother bought for lil’sis’ christening that is coming to London with me. (Oh these empty rooms pull at my heart strings – a van came this morning to take the furniture my father got in the divorce settlement)
I’m also having these mugs from Granny & Grandpa Horse. For as long as I can remember they were used for tea at their cottage. (I come from a very horse-y family on my mother’s side.)
This has gone in the skip for obvious reasons. Taken at some point in the 80s, we always called it the Hamster Family photo. Feckin’ awful.
And then there’s the badger that Grandpa Horse shot in Warwickshire in the 1930s. It always used to live on the loo cistern, where it gave drunken dinner party guests the fright of their lives when they looked up from their zippers. (Especially because the cat used to sleep on its back.) I think I might take it back to London and put it in my office.
Meanwhile I just gave up on the idea of putting anything else AT ALL in my London flat, which is unpacked but in which I have still only spent 3 nights since moving in and haven’t got organised yet. So, with a sense of doom laden deja vu (I spent three years in New York intimately acquainted with Manhattan Mini Storage), I booked a space at StorageBase in Banbury today (highly recommend – charming staff), and parked my childhood books (in our old school trunks), three bags of the NME from the 80s/90s, Paddington Bear, & Great Aunt Joan’s vintage hats in there until I work out what to do with them.