The emotional upheaval of change

Don't get me wrong, I'm excited about the prospect of moving to London, especially with such an uber cool chick as Lindsey, but the actual reality of the admin of moving is gradually dawning on me.

Packing my belongings into boxes never fails to generate a whole jumble of emotions and thoughts which on a normal day won't ever cross my mind. I'm not sure if it's just me, but each time I pack my (fairly limited) belongings into boxes I am flooded with a whole load of....

Random memories

My clock which I keep by my bed. Normally I never consider its history, but here is the only physical remaining evidence of a relationship I had with a guy called Dan Porter, when I was 18 years old. His mum bought me the clock. Its pretty naff, but it always gets wrapped and taken and unwrapped and put by my bed.

My picture of Lotte, my dog, who was put to sleep at the beginning of 2006, sleeping on the old sofa at the house where I was bought up in Reading until I was 17.

The fat little buddha which has sat by my bed for 7 years since Clare first gave him to me. I remember rubbing his tummy for luck before sitting various exams. He has lost a little part of his head, but he keeps on smiling.

Guilt

Why have I accumulated so little of any value. My most precious items in my life are as follows:

1) Dog collar and 'Grrrrrr' pendant which my dog wore around her neck for 14 years
2) A gold sovereign coin given to me in a will by a cousin of my grandparents up north....when I say Sovereign, I don't mean a nasty, argos one which might be made into a ring, I mean like a dubloon or something. It's lovely, and has a horse engraved on it.
3) My Charles and Diana sterling silver napkin rings...one day these might be worth something, but for now, they just make me chuckle and that's their value.
4) My passport sized picture of me aged 2, wide eyed, scruffy haired, immeasurably cute and innocent. My mum kept this in her wallet as her most treasured possession until a recent bout of depression when she cleansed herself of the emotional burden of her children (as kids) by returning to us all pictures, school reports, toys, drawings, poems we'd written. At this time, she gave the picture to me. One day I suspect she might want it back, but for now, I love it dearly.
5)A picture of me and my school friends: Clare, Julia, Emma, Liz and me at my oldest friend in the world, Jen's wedding. Jen was there at hospital on the day I was born.

Ok, so they mean the world to me. But if I left any one of them in my will to someone, I can't imagine they'd be thrilled!

What it boils down to is that at least 90% of my belongings are worthless and disposable and as much as I do love them now, this is only temporary. Shoes, clothes, boots, accessories, most of which aren't 'classics' and will be culled and replenished systematically in one of my ruthless tri-monthly binges...binliner upon binliner are filled to the brim with ill thought through purchases and colours which would never have worked on one so fair.

And with the impending move, I have this melancholy process to go through. Anyone want any of last season's French Connection? I think this time I could well break a record of bags of rubbish to throw away... the pictures and clock and the gold coin are staying close by my side.

Tomorrow- I plan to master the art of cockney rhyming slang....anyone have any pointers?