My garage has to be seen to be believed. It manages to accumaulate all sorts of things - some useful (preserves/sloe gin, lots of supersized catering equipment) and the less useful (bags of empty jars, mostly empty paint tins, broken sun umbrella, assorted and unidentifiable gardening equipment parts, bags of rubble, bags of grass seed that the mice got into, screws/nails etc). A certain ex husband of my acquaintance has also been known to stash stuff in there that has not seen the light of day for some years.
But finally this morning I did a trawl through the lot, filled the car and was off to Garth Rd and the waste transfer station. Dumped it all in the sun, dust and grime and am very satisfied with the mornings work.
An observation: waste transfer stations smell the same - bad - all over the world. A great leveller and reassuring somehow. It takes me back to the days when my main paternal bonding activity, was a fortnightly trip to the tip with good old dad - an open cast landscape of trash, crawling with rats and where gulls wheeled overhead. Ahh, happy days....
Mind you, could probably get really ruthless and do another couple of car loads from my garage. And the loft is next...
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