This is Henry. He was a present many years ago when I was smaller than he is. I dragged him from Germany to the UK and back again. He sat in the corner of my bedroom when I was a student, clothes draped over him.
Welcome to my attempt to de-clutter my life. I’m in the process of throwing things away so we can make the transition from a large house virtually in the countryside to a small flat in the middle of a busy city. I don’t need three copies of the same book and nor do I need chipped mugs that no one uses or cuddly toys long past their best.
Everything we possess comes with it’s own set of unique memories. Perhaps it was gifted to us by an old friend, left to us in someone’s will, bought on holiday or as a reward for passing exams. Placed side by side our possessions create a timeline of our lives, recording both highs and lows, love affairs and fights. They don’t hide away the bad or highlight the good, they simply are.
Throwing things away without recording their story seemed harsh, almost a kin to cutting away a part of me and thus this blog was born.
Stories after all, no matter how insignificant they may seem at the time, cry out to be told.
‘But one we must ask if we want any roses.’
So we must join hands in the dew coming coldly
There in the hush of the wood that reposes,
And turn and go up to the open door boldly,
And knock to the echoes as beggars for roses.