A Deep Clean

On Friday, a skip was delivered.  It heralds the beginning of a long, long overdue clear out.  Pushchairs, bicycles, accumulated phaff that has been shifted from one side of the garage to the other is finally being shuffled into the skip or fire and being got rid of.  Tim tells me he burned all my University bank statements.  This is something that should have been done years ago but we’re not the quickest off the mark for sorting clutter.

I was instructed to make a cup of tea and then begin de-cluttering the conservatory. I lovingly and willing made a cup of tea, but could then hear the piano calling rather loudly and suggesting I played a procrastination rag. Tim caught me and wanted to know what I was doing. Well, manual labour that involves tidying and not children or horses or being outside is not very appealing. He’d found my old school reports and he handed them to me.

Now here was something interesting. Sorry conservatory! I’ll see to you later. Eight counts of comments about my sense of humour and cheerful disposition. Pardon? Sense of humour? But I honestly didn’t think I had a sense of humour. And these are reports from 5 out of 7 years of senior school. What happened to 3rd and fourth form reports, or years 9 & 10 as they became known?

While I still had reports on my lap, Tim appeared with a box of paraphernalia from my first year at University. Who are these guys?

And these kids?

I found the one and only Valentines day card Tim has ever given me. We don’t do Valentines day or cards. It’s just not us. Commercial…well you know the Spiel if you know me, but this one card illustrates the point exactly. Tim’s economy of expression amounts to writing “M” and signing the card with a heart shape. That’s it!

However, today’s clearing has unearthed a poem Tim wrote but I have never seen. Believe me I would have remembered it if he had given it to me. It appears to have been meant to be given with a piece of jewellery but I think he bottled out of giving the poem.

And then we found this:
…the picture my parents wouldn’t frame. Oh, so funny! Why was such an awful photo copied and THAT hair cut.

This deep clean is fun! More to come…

About deerfeet

I am a home-educating mother of four children. We live on a small holding in Wales and my husband is active in local politics and the lead pastor of our church, Festival Church.
This entry was posted in Creative Communication, Reflections and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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