Hands up anyone who actually has space to keep their car in the garage.
OK, I know there some, but you probably have a really really big garage and all the space where the cars aren’t is packed to the rafters.
So, where does it all come from?
In the past few months of all the hundreds of items of Stuff in there, we’ve used the ladders, the lawn mower (although I know it doesn’t look like it), the strimmer and a screwdriver. Oh, and my friend’s husband used the ice axe to unjam a bike seat (which means I’m out of excuses for not using the borrowed bike now).
The Panther and I have just had a go at clearing up the Stuff. We moved several bikes of various sizes, ditto water pistols and car seats. There were items from camping shops, lots of dressing up outfits, a toy kitchen, many pairs of manky discarded curtains. Some fold-up chairs and tables with their legs unscrewed but carefully attached with tape. There was a large and heavy nylon holdall which I can only assume contained the tent so hideous to assemble that I thought I’d burnt it. We also found a punctured inflatable bed and three cot mattresses, two sledges, plenty of things in crusty tins and jars and a stubbornly kinky hosepipe.
The reason we were addressing this treasure trove is that the architect is finally coming tomorrow and as things stood, lay, fell, collapsed and piled he couldn’t have seen the walls let alone measured them.
I have started to wonder though… if Ellen’s fabulous news and copy agency moves to a salubrious new home in the garage, what’s going to happen to the Stuff?