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May 31, 2010


I’m a horder. In the last two weekends, I have put out into the trash no less than 5 large garbage bags full of crap that has been stuffing up my house.  The majority of it is non-recyclable clothing – pyjamas I had worn to the last unth because flannelette after 100 washes is so soft, shit I had made to wear out to raves in the Rephresh / Rephlex days at Heaven [1996!], odd gloves, vintage things I had bought as rags in the first place and now after getting worn and pinned together for long enough and not able to be turned into a patchwork quilt. Pepper that lot with jars of spice I think I was born with, bags with no handles and the most useful of all – presents from the ex husbands parents.

What is also so disturbing is the large cardboard box of stuff that I just can’t bring myself to part with just yet because it is either a] recyclable or b] historic value or c] or personal priceless value. I ask you though – how many Silas cyclepath jackets are normal? How many Helmut Lang vests did one girl ever need? Can we add to that X-girl & Milk Fed t-shirts, hand made a-line skirts… Clothes I had bought from TOPSHOP or H&M before I stopped… Actually it is too embarrassing to go on. BECAUSE WHAT IS LEFT IS STILL AN ABSOLUTE MOUNTAIN OF CLOTHES CRAMMED ONTO MY SIX FOOT RAIL AND FOUR SIX FOOT SHELVES.

I cannot be described in any way as a minimalist. And there I was going on about how happy I was after visiting my favourite second hand clothes shop and buying more. No wonder I don’t have a boyfriend, there isn’t physically any room for one in this house with all the china, vintage clothes, baking tins and African barbershop signs.

And of course there is the question of Hobart. At 2.20am last night this is how a certain little someone could be found IN my bed, ON HER SIDE of my bed. Today, she has been loving all the activity. A little annoyed that her secret hiding space behind the laundry basket was pulled out,  Hobart has had a great time disembowelling skirts that she liked the smell of [my boss has given me the greatest English Eccentrics skirt from under her bed!] and then grabbing the dustiest things she obviously though had greater value than I did and ferreting them off in the deepest corners under my bed. So helpful!

I am dreading cracking open the cupboard in the hallway. That is where the deepest sins lie. Plastic bowl caked full of plaster anyone? So before that, I am going to watch my buddy Jess Dickenson’s movie “Where the Dust Settles” I will report back later.

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