Re-distributing treasure to my treasures...

There comes a time in your life when you have to address your drawers. "Oh, pants!" I hear you say. No, not your granny bloomers. The drawers and cupboards into which you have stashed the flotsam and jetsam of the past thirty odd years. Stashed, I have to say, in no particular order. It is partly one's own schtuff, but it is greatly augmented by that which one's dearest off-sprung have left behind when they vacated the family nest with a jaunty, "Can you just hang on to that, Mum?"

Well, let me tell you, this Mum has done with hanging on to things. Recent goings on upstairs (of the decorating kind) have necessitated going under the bed in the middle bedroom. I was under there three days. Came back out with a mouthful of fluff, a ceremonial sword, a musket, and a pair of exercise dumb bells (damn useful). Oh yes, and a million CDs and DVDs.

We no longer have a CD or a DVD player  because we are totally reliant on the internet now. Whoopty-doo. So I have been sorting through the collection... half of which belong to my lovely children.  I have been bundling them up, along with other sundries: my daughter's first shoe, my son's year 8 Project on the paranormal. Do you know, it contains a playable tape of his 12 year old self interviewing David Mandell, the psychic painter? Fancy that?

I just know they are going to enjoy receiving these unexpected gifts. Their faces will light up with pleasure and gratitude.
I am so convinced of this that I will ring their doorbell, put down the box of delights, and run like hell.

A box of goodies is coming your way...