Moving back into the Shoebox

Shoebox and Matchbox on one of our recent sunny days

We've now been back in the Shoebox a couple of weeks.  I'd somehow thought that it would be a simple matter, with everything planned and fitting in just where anticipated.  The reality has been a little different...

Everything came out of store and appeared virtually to fill the Matchbox - No 8, next door.  Some fifty boxes of books and kitchen equipment had to be sorted through.  I'd known we'd brought back more than we needed, since at the time we returned to the UK we'd thought that No. 8 would do for holiday lets.  Now that this idea has been abandoned for a long term let, the surplus has to be got rid of.  So, having imported everything we need to No. 7 - or at least everything we can fit in - we were left with a body of stuff that has had to be sorted into categories for (a) auction in London; (b) auction up the road in Battle; (c) sale on eBay or boot sales; and (d) charity shops.  Needless to say, in the course of this there have been second thoughts, and the Shoebox is fuller than it need be.  Even so, we were left with eight boxes of books, which we have happily donated to the British Heart Foundation's charity shop in Hastings Town Centre - though lifting them was enough to give one a cardiac arrest.

Sifting through possessions always leaves me slightly dispirited.  I know I'm a war baby and hence obsessed with the idea that a nuclear strike is imminent, but even allowing for this did I ever need thirty large storage jars?  The problem with space - particularly such as we had in France - is that you fill it.  Then there are the precious objects that it breaks your heart to get rid of - as a result of which we have a glamorous gilt mirror in the upstairs WC and a bronze 1930s sculpture in the downstairs one.  I know they're mere objects, and meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but they're still part of our lives, and I'm not keen on amputation. 

Slowly, however, we're getting through it and things are returning to some semblance of normality.  I've always maintained that a home is not one's life, but a framework for life.  Now we can start getting back to the real thing!

Antony Mair