With visits to family/friends and a couple of nights out planned before I fly south, I’ve had to start packing a week early. Actually, with my current house-mates now looking for elsewhere to live because I’m leaving (they’re looking for something smaller and cheaper) I’m basically moving out and not just packing. Which leaves me needing to ask my dad to keep some stuff for me.
However “stuff”, isn’t something which I have a lot of. One of the plus points (for me at least) of being single for donkeys years, having no kids and having lived in furnished rented homes for the past few years, is that I’ve never needed to accumulate “stuff”.
Apart from the backpack which will be on my back next Monday I have the following items to show for my 31 years of existence:
- a 6 year old desktop computer (which sounds like a Boeing 747 everytime I turn it on) and a 10 year old computer monitor (which is approximately the same size as a family hatch-back).
- 1 Ikea chest of drawers
- 1 cardboard storage box containing bits and bobs
- 1 bin bag of ‘spare’ clothes
..and that’s pretty much it (I also have/had a car, but I never owned it outright, so that’s going back to Ford on Friday)!
I’ve never had a lot of clothes. I hate clothes shopping and so I’ve only ever bought clothes when I’ve actually needed to rather than for something to do on a Saturday. If only I hadn’t grown; I’d still be wearing Super Ted pyjama’s.
My initial reaction, when I realised I didn’t have many belongings, was that it’s a bit grim. But after I thought about it, it’s quite the opposite. At least I haven’t had any hassles about either getting rid of things or storage. Obviously my childhood spent playing with them little green plastic army men – pretending they were the SAS, who are ready to up and go at a moments notice (eg, throwing them out the bedroom window for a ground assault in the garden) – has subconsciously paid off….errr…honest! There’s no other rational explanation.
Also, now that my house-mates are looking to move, it does of course mean when I come back from Australia (whenever that may be), I’ll potentially have to move back into my dads. With him and his ‘partner’. Sweet baby Jesus and the orphans, the prospect actually terrifies me. I get on with them, but…ya know…what a barrel of laughs that will be.
I’ll make an audacious attempt to live as an undercover koala before I let that happen.