Spring cleaning

Those of you who know me will agree that 'tidy' is not my middle name. In fact, it's not even in my vocabulary. My brother calls me Mr Trebus after the elderly gentlemen in the TV Series 'A Life of Grime' and, when I invited my neices for a sleep-over when they were tiny, he replied, 'No, they haven't had their shots yet.' When he brings his dog over he says, 'We like Aunty Linda's house, don't we? Lots of places to hide, lots of interesting smells...' He even put my name forward for Kim and Aggie to come and pay me a visit on their show, 'How Clean is Your House' but retracted the request after I gave him the death stare. My Aunty Janet, whom I love dearly (and thank goodness I do!) came to vist once (I'd tidied before she arrived) and declared, 'My God, look at the state of this place! I don't even want to think what your bathroom is like!'

So, you get the picture. It's not dirty, but it's untidy. I have too much stuff, I am a hoarder and I am not ashamed of that fact. So many of the things in my house that others may call rubbish have a use that has not yet been identified, or a value that has not yet been exploited. One day, someone might want a couple of hundred empty CD sleeves. One day, back issues of Psychologies Magazine, still in their cellophane wrappers, may become collectors' items.

No-one was more surprised than I was when I decided that the Time Had Come, the time to pick up everything that was lying on the floor and the stairs, and clear everything away for the Carpet Man to come and deep clean the carpets in the hall, lounge, stairs and landing. I spent a whole weekend moving furniture and bookcases and shoes and bags and piles of paper and magazines and boxes of stuff that I was going to sort out 'later'. The result? A fabulously tidy and beautiful lounge! I love it! And I intend to keep it that way.

Now, if I can just beat a path through the furniture, bookcases and shoes and bags and piles of paper and magazines and boxes of stuff that are now crammed into the rooms upstairs, I might be able to find my way to bed ...

Perhaps Mr Trebus was an accurate description after all.