Andrew Kay: What’s in store

Life changes and things move on, and once again I find myself moving. I hate the whole process, the packing up, the sorting out and the cleaning. Oh how the dust gathers in those places that we seldom explore.

I spent the whole weekend alone in my much loved Kemp Town flat, taking apart the home that I had created there, and it was a sad experience. In taking things down and packing things up so many memories are stirred, not only recent ones but ancient ones too. Taking objects from shelves you discover things forgotten, pieces of paper shake you up, pictures stop you in your tracks and some things even bring you to tears. I spent quite a lot of the time searching for a tissue on which to wipe away a tearful memory.

It has been a year of change that started with my father’s funeral and ends with me moving on. My cluttered life lay around me in cardboard boxes that, for a short time I hope, will be placed in storage, and I sat on the few remaining sticks of furniture trying to take it all in.

It suddenly became apparent that rather than moving everything on I needed to shed some of that clutter. It was not going to be easy, I’m a creature of habit and my worst habit is collecting stuff. I have thousands, literally, of CDs, none of which I ever look at or play since I went digital. Can I get rid of them? Not yet, I decided.

There are stacks of pictures, paintings and prints and hundreds more not in frames. Can I part with some of them? No, not really, not yet anyway.

There are boxes filled with ceramics, my prized collection of Susie Cooper studio-ware, now shrouded in bubble wrap, and most definitely in need of a good wash I discovered as I laid them to rest. Can I bear to part with these most precious objects? Absolutely not, not a hope in hell.

It was looking bleak, I so wanted to shed some chattels, strip down and clear out, but I was too attached to do it.

I moved on a room and looked into my wardrobes. Suddenly I had a revelation and I started to pile things into heavy-duty bin-liners. Out went clothes, once loved but now un-worn. Out went pairs of shoes, once loved, once fashionable, once comfortable I might add since gout now has me in search of comfy footwear. Into the bags they tumbled. It was addictive, I was hooked and I moved from that room to the kitchen.

“It was the most marvellous feeling, a cleansing of my soul through food and the disposal of it”

Now you can imagine that my kitchen is full of stuff, and it is, well at least it was. The bug had me and I went in like a bulldozer. Anything chipped went into a bin, boom! Anything stained went the same way, crash! Jars that held a little food were dispensed with, packets opened but not finished went the same way. It was the most marvellous feeling, a cleansing of my soul through food and the disposal of it.

Rest assured, nothing of any use went into the bin, and I did discover some things that were scarily beyond their sell by date. I’m sure we all have those lurking at the back of our fridges and larders.

After a while I looked into the big green sack to see that I had made an enormous mixture of flour and sugar and rice and dried fruits. All the things that the storage companies will not let you file away, for obvious reasons. It looked quite delicious but it had to go, so I tied up the bag and out it went.

Later I looked out from my now bleak room to see that it was tipping down with rain and blowing a gale. I went to bed and prayed that the bag was secure, after all I did not want to wake up to a giant Christmas pudding batter the next day, the dessert to end all desserts.

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