Why am I such a hoarder?

Given Imogen and now her parting gift, torrential rain, I find myself clearing out cupboards.  I hate tidying up at the best of times, but the rain leaves me no excuse other than to do the jobs I have been putting off.

So, why am I so obsessed with keeping everything?  30 odd years worth of theatre programmes for a kick off.

My old teddy bear, Snowball, who following years of spinning around in the washing machine, has long since lost all his stuffing.   He has been with me since I was about 5 and slept with me until I was about 30.  I was very needy.  I moved out of the family home at 18 and he came with me.  He  was always there to comfort me when going to bed started to take on a whole new meaning and were sometimes an epic fail.  Snowy has seen it all.

Snowball. An old, much loved and well travelled bear. Life really seems to have knocked the stuffing out of him.

I tend to hoard stuff as mementos.  A great birthday (champagne cork), wonderful holiday (wine tasting glass from Stellenbosh) and, clearly, every single theatre programme since I was 16.  Then there are all the magazines and newspapers containing my words of wisdom since I was 8.  It has got to stop!

Scientists will say hoarding can be hereditary and yes, my Mum was pretty hoardy.  And as for the photographs, where on earth do I begin?  Come on get a grip!  I need to declutter!

Endless boxes of photographs (2 of 10), oh and a suitcase full

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