There are people in this world that hoard stuff. I am sure that you have noticed them. Some fill every single surface with ornaments and mementos from trips and better times. For others it gets so bad that there is almost nothing that they can throw away. Imagine filling every available space in your home with cardboard and newspaper, old keys and plastic bags, bottles, tins and cans. Imagine making your way to bed at night slowly past piles of old appliances and boxes of chappies wrappers, careful not to bump anything lest it all topples and crashes to the floor. Imagine weaving your way to your bed and shuffling up the newspaper steps to your queen size bed. Then inching yourself carefully under the covers not wanting to disturb the stacks of old clothing and linen and your late aunts favourite teddy bear collection, all squatting in bed with you.

I on the other hand am a confirmed anti hoarder. If we don’t use it, I am inclined to throw it or give it away. I hate clutter and wage a constant battle to ensure that surfaces are free from stuff and cupboards are neat and tidy. Anything that has not seen the light of day in a while is removed. I passionately believe that it is better for my stuff to be given away and used by someone, rather than to gather dust and mould in a gloomy cupboard. Although sometimes it is difficult to find a new owner for a slightly bent wrought iron curtain tie back, but I will keep on looking.

And suddenly I have just realised that I have become a hoarder!

Instead of stuff, I have started to collect the written word. My written word, as if anything that I write is manna from heaven or gold ore. Just like the hoarder, everything I write is now carefully saved. I find that although what I write is not exactly what I need right now, it is far too good to throw away. Maybe, just maybe it will come in useful at some time in the future.

I have developed a fear of losing my under developed and lack lustre writing skills. Perhaps I will never string together adjectives, verbs and nouns in the same way again. My own prose containing clever English grammar have become priceless. When my pearls of wisdom and utter brilliance shine through, I am almost brought to tears with worry about how to protect its longevity. Although I am sure that only happened once! With the fear of harddrivefailureitis, always in my mind, I back up continuously.

And with all of this literary brilliance that inhabits my computer, I still find it tough to string together the right words in the right way. But I am making some progress and you can rest assured that for every page in my blog there are reams more in my laptop. Let alone the hefty volumes of utter rubbish still in my head!

If you would like your own private reading of it all, give me a call!