Told you not to run...

I could have told you, my children and everyone else, from a theoretical basis, that you should not run through the gate so fast and without looking properly because you will come to a grizzly end.

Indeed I could, but I declined to listen to myself and did exactly that and clocked my forehead against the latest supposedly child-proof latch. Thank goodness for arnica which I swallowed in tablet form and smeared over the bump in cream form. Even with its near magical properties, I am puffy the entire way round my left eye and dopey and headachy. Once again, our camping trip is delayed.

Despite my dopey state, I still filled 1.5 rubbish sacks today from my part of the study. Do I really need all those photos of ex flatmates, ex boyfriends, someone's cat, wedding shots from a friend who is now divorced, 800 of my siblings? No. I also had forgotten about how people used to write letters. Perhaps I kept them all, as I sure seem to have plenty. Past tense now, though I have kept some from Grandma because it is her and I love her beautiful old fashioned writing and one from Dad because even when other people used to write letters, he almost never did.

It's a great sport, culling, once I get in the right frame of mind for it. I've a good mind to get rid of yet more photos. If I don't think of a really good use (making doll's clothes or toys doesn't count) for the many partial balls of 8 ply in my drawer soon, they'll be heading Sally-ward too.

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