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On 17th December, I finally moved into a new house after a year of ‘birdsnesting’.
Birdsnesting basically means both parents taking turns to reside in the marital home, in order to make a separation easier on the kids. As you can probably imagine, being self employed after years of being a stay at home parent has made it pretty tricky to find somewhere to rent on my own, because apparently landlords aren’t keen to rent you a house when your job is loosely described as ‘pissing about on Facebook’ and your monthly income is ‘somewhere between not a lot, and some, and occasionally more’.
A year of long drives, living out of a suitcase and not being able to commit to anything like a real job or even a gym membership was enough though, and with help from my wonderful friends I did it.
I have my own space and I feel much better for it.
It might seem silly, but I can feel my mental health improving with every cup of tea I drink on my new sofa.
I’d been in my house for more than 12 years, so there was a lot of stuff to pack up; and I didn’t really have enough time or space to do it, meaning a few boxes of my old shit are still coming my way each week.
Each one is like a ‘fun’ Youtube unboxing surprise – what will be inside?! Will it be a bunch of old DVDs (NB I don’t have a DVD player), some decades-old tupperware, or maybe some toys with half the bits missing? Or perhaps something that I had completely forgotten existed?
Here are just some of the exciting items found within.
My “meteorite”
We were watching Don’t Look Up on Netflix last week (which I thought was brilliant by the way, and if you haven’t watched it yet then I would suggest you give it a go) and I was like, yea I found a meteorite when I was younger, I remember it falling into the garden from the sky and and being warm to the touch.
My partner then laughed at me a bit like you might an adult who still believed in Santa because apparently this is very much not a thing. There are maybe 10 meteorites found a year. What I had found (and kept, for 30 years) was in fact in every single likelihood a stone. A pretty, heavy, but very probably very average stone.
Anyway, evidently my parents were having me on, but in a stroke of excellent timing, it was packed it up into my box of possessions with my fossil collection (yup, I was a really cool kid) which I happened to open up a few days later.
I don’t care if it’s not a real meteorite, I’m going to warm it up, chuck it into the garden from an upstairs window and convince my kids it is from space.
A copy of Grange Hill The Album on CD
I have absolutely no recollection of ever owning this. It may have been a shit secret Santa gift but I can’t imagine who from. They obviously did not like me.
I don’t actually own a CD player – no, not even in the car, the Shitzubishi doesn’t even have a working radio – so I doubt it will get much use. You can still buy it from Amazon, although I don’t have a clue why you would.
A Groovy Chick mug
Were you even a child of the 90s if your prized possessions included Bang on the Door and Purple Ronnie Memorabilia? Some bed sheets perhaps? A t-shirt? A notebook? Or maybe this mug, which probably started out life nestling a shit Kinnerton chocolate egg.
This one is kind of cheating though, as it was actually my sister’s, but as it’s a great size for hot chocolate with Baileys I’m keeping it.
Rude.
Back issues of Gardener’s World magazine c. 2011
As if I couldn’t get much cooler. Rather than just slipping them into the recycling and pretending it never happened, these were boxed up and delivered, and I am now the proud owner of a LOT of back issues of Gardener’s World, 2011-12*. This is fabulous because I definitely have space in my cardboard and paper recycling for more.
At least it wasn’t my two year subscription to Practical Fishkeeping, eh?
*I can’t help but think that not a lot has changed in the plant world, so if I were interested in gardening they’d probably be of some use. But I’m not so they aren’t.
My National Record of Achievement
And finally!
Anyone who went to school in the UK in the 90s will have one of these, and they will have sat for 20-odd years, largely untouched (but never thrown away, just in case) waiting to remind you how awkward you were when you were 16 and how it was amazing that you ever got given any kind of job ever.
I would share my personal statement with you, but it is so cringeworthy I can’t even begin to face it, so instead here you can see what my old form tutor had to say about me.
I do not remember any of that, but that’s probably for the best.
Actually it occurs to me that, throughout my life, not ONE person has EVER asked to see my GCSE certificates and I’m raging, so here you go; the first people to set eyes on this is 21 years. What a winner.
Stay tuned for next week’s exciting edition: Maybe we’ll even get into the loft!