Death cleaning

Uncle downsized first from a large house in Nottingham to a cottage in Mumbles and then to an apartment so he had already disposed of a lot of life's clutter before he died. I had comparatively little to sort and throw but it did make me aware of all the junk in my own home. So since then I've tried to begin de-cluttering or death cleaning as the Swedes prefer to think of it. 

I'd taken a short break but today I began again with a vengeance. I began with my Fitbit. Broken, apparently irreparable and useless - my Fitbit not me - I was still reluctant to throw it out. But I did. 

And I followed it with my cow. It's been on my bookshelf in pieces since two Christmases ago when a grandchild dropped it. I was living with the hope that, one day, Husband would turn up with the superglue and all would be well in bovine world once more. Looking at it today I realised it's in an awful lot of pieces. I think it would take a master potter to mend this broken cow.


I also discovered evidence of my slimming history.

Apparently I joined Weightwatchers in 1998. I say 'apparently' because it has my name on it but I have no memory of it. It didn't last long: I weighed 9st 12lbs on joining and 9st 11 and a half lbs on leaving five weeks later.

I tried again more successfully in 2011, this time with Rosemary Conley.

It's fascinating what you forget.