I spent much of yesterday, and much of today, putting things into boxes. Mostly books.

I leavened this by occasionally taking things out of boxes, and putting them into other boxes.

There was also a fair amount of putting things into black plastic bin liners, some destined for the bin, and some for the charity shop.

Any clothes that I haven’t worn for six months went, for example. Since that period spanned one of the coldest winters I can remember, and certainly the hottest summer, everything I need was worn recently. If I ain’t worn it in six months, I almost certainly never will. (Those who know me realise that this means that I now have very little clothing.) Just an example of the harsher than usual de-cluttering I’ve imposed on myself this move.

Sigh. I hate moving. I’m off down the pub.