DO stop being cross

I started sorting out the attic this morning.

We need a new roof so it'll have to be emptied at some point, and as it's been used as a dumping ground by various children at different times, as well as being the final resting place of boxes of stuff from dead relatives that 'we'll sort out' one day, it's a bit of a tip.

Anyone sticking their head into the attic, after I spent a couple of hours up there, would think it's still a tip, but it's now an organised tip, with boxes labelled, 'to be sorted by Younger Son/Elder Son/anyone who wants it.'

I've kept all the cards we sent each other but decided to be ruthless and toss the bought ones, just keeping those made by the children. So, of course, I had to go through them all . . .

The figure on the right is, I believe, Younger Son, who was in his people without bodies stage. (Just in case anyone thinks it's anything else!)

An awful lot of the cards are of the 'Get well soon, Daddy' variety, reflecting how often he's been ill. Not a single 'Get well, Mummy' though.

And more wires, cables, plugs, sockets, and whatchamacallits than any family could reasonably use in a lifetime.