Everything must go.
Yes, in an unparalleled fit of domestic (?) zeal, I've been cleaning and throwing away and hauling crap to the local charity dropoff.
I'm even getting rid of my vhs tapes which are pesky and the players on the market these days are for crap, so what's the point? I have no sentiment about any of them except one small handful.
I have a Young Ones in NTSC (I think that's what it's called? - the North American VHS format) and 3 tapes of Bottom Live (the Britcom series starring Rik Mayall & Adrian Edmondson) and I'm not keeping them, but like sad little orphan puppies, I can't bear to turn them out into the cold, cruel world of a dispassionate charity shop with no hope of understanding. If you want them, email me your address and I'll mail them to you, mkay?
So, paper, paper everywhere, and not a match to strike.
Where does it all come from? Magazines, mail, adverts, mail, onion peel unravelings of an unquiet mind scrawled on receipts and post-its and some more mail, and all sitting awaiting discovery.
Well, I couldn't be bothered to read them, and I simply don't trust them in the world. I swept my hair up into a French twist and went about the business of sorting papers into recycle/throw away/shred or burn.
Ah, burn! Burning is fun. I had a shopping bag of burnables (anything with name and address), so out I went to the chimenea. I lit a tealight in the chimenea and threw in wads of paper to get the fire rolling. Soon a furnace-like blast was emanating from its gaping piehole. Unfortunately , it was a bit of a gusty day, and I leaned too close.
Heigh Ho! Something smells funny. I didn't put any hair in that fir----SHHHIIIT!
My hair somehow got singed.
Fortunately, it was out almost immediately. I whined to Hols on the phone shortly thereafter and she said "relax, honey, like me, you're one of those people who could lose half your hair and no one would ever notice, because there's so much of it left." I suppose that was oddly comforting, but I'm still mulling it over in my pea brain. I spose we'll see how wonky it looks when I warsh it next time. Oh well: I'm making more.
As I sorted and said my goodbyes to things, I kept thinking of that line from The Devil by PJ Harvey which said
what formerly had cheered me
now seems insignificant, insignificant...
which always leads me to think of Hamlet's soliloquy which concludes
Man delights not me, no,
nor women neither, nor women neither...
Clear the Area by Imogen Heap: