From whence they came they return

The boxes, The Boxes, THE BOXES!! I moved them in under duress - complaints from Ma that they were cluttering up her attic. Better her attic than my bedroom but she was insistent. Five years later it seemed they were destined once again for her attic, unopened and untroubled by human hand or eye in all that time. Didn't even have a clue what was in them. They were such a comfortable feature, haphazardly balanced around the bedroom, I forgot they were there. Others however never failed in reminding me. Hmmm. The time had come to rifle through them and rationalise.

I donned full N.B.C. suit - one should always be prepared for whatever one may encounter in cardboard boxes and for all I knew they contained Saddam's ellusive Weapons of Mass Destruction.

In truth they contained nothing more dangerous than mountains of paper that shoud have been filed, leaky pens and a pair of curly toed slippers from Rajasthan (amongst other assorted gubbins that filled up the six boxes or so). I spent hours upon hours, nay days tearing up paper into indecipherable confetti [Memo to self: buy shredder next time].

So, with the help of Jo, my clobber was shifted back to Ma's and the sun was surely setting on the Borough Bunker era...for now.

Pic of Ma, me & Harry on the day of the shift, Ma managing to smile through gritted teeth at receiving the unwanted consignment of chatels. Bless.