Saturday 3 December 2016

I'd willingly succumb to an induced coma...

Katy McGuinness

Published 12/06/2016 | 02:30

'Most charity shops are not keen these days, which comes at a bad time for Kondo disciples trying to put the guru's rules into practice.'
'Most charity shops are not keen these days, which comes at a bad time for Kondo disciples trying to put the guru's rules into practice.'

We're getting down to the wire, now. The packing has commenced in earnest and there is a regular convoy making trips to the dump and the charity shop. The paintings are down off the walls and swaddled in bubble-wrap, and we are trying to be frugal and eat our way through the contents of the cupboards rather than bringing more food into the house. (This is making for some interesting meals.)

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The question of what to do with all the books in the house has been a preoccupation for months. Most charity shops are not keen these days, which comes at a bad time for Kondo disciples trying to put the guru's rules into practice. Thankfully, the school library put out an appeal for books just in the nick of time, so we are dropping boxes off there several times a day, taking care to winnow out anything that might cause us embarrassment at the next parent teacher meeting.

Hard decisions have had to be made in terms of clothing, and I suspect that I'm not the only member of the family to have seized the opportunity to bin a particularly disliked item belonging to someone else. I reckon that I'll probably get away with it, because I hear there are always things that disappear - inexplicably - during a house move. When we moved to Dublin from London 25 years ago, the movers managed to lose a cooker and a four-foot plaster angel. I pursued them for compensation for months to no avail. You had to be very dedicated back then, in the days before email.

On the very highest shelf in the kitchen, we found the iodine tablets that we were issued with in 2002, to be used in the event of a terrorist attack on the nuclear reactors in Sellafield or Chapelcross. They expired in 2005, which I suppose is confirmation of my dedication - or lack of it - as a housekeeper.

As the packing proceeds I find myself becoming ever more ruthless, caring less and less about what we take and what we leave behind. It's exhausting this business of moving house, and the cumulative effect of months of viewings, and of living in a state of unnatural tidiness has taken its toll.

Right now, I'd willingly succumb to an induced coma, to be woken up once we are installed in the new house, with all the boxes unpacked and their contents put away, the utilities connected, the paint colours and appliances selected, and the prospect of a lazy Sunday with nothing more challenging on the agenda that a read of the papers, a walk along the canal, and a discussion as to what to cook for lunch.

This column is taking a break for the summer and let's hope that will be the new reality when it re-appears come September.

Sunday Independent

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