I hate mess and clutter but I do love things.

Books, candles, photos, blankets my house is full of them.

Especially at the moment when it’s so cold. I love my things.

Minimal spaces to me feel sterile and unloved.

They make me feel uncomfortable. I love a home to tell a story, to be made up of memories.

I can look at anything in our house and tell you where it came from or who bought it.

Sometimes I do find it hard to let go.

For instance only this morning I was looking at this old battered set of drawers we have. My second daughter used to call it her keep box. She’d leave all sorts of personal treasures in it, mainly scraps of paper, odd sweets she’d find and toys.

When we went on holiday once to Spain she cried that she missed it.

Now it’s seen better days but still I can’t bring myself to get rid of it.

Every time I look at it I see that curly blond girl with the mischievous glint in her eye.

One thing I do need to work on is paperwork and the children’s old school books.

We have so many we’ve kept for cross reference should be required and memories. When they’ve worked so hard on something it’s tough to throw it out.

But I need to I know.