My grandma hoarded everything,
my mum gave it all away,
I follow in my grandmother’s footsteps,
as we did in the childhood game.
I remember the fascinating corner cupboard at grandma’s, above the solid square wooden table by the sash window. Its cream painted panels reached all the way up to the high ceiling and it was filled with odd bits and bobs, such as assorted buttons and cut up pieces of fabric from old shirts. We used to make racing tanks from wooden cotton reels in there with matchsticks and rubber bands, multicoloured pompoms were created from circles of cardboard and lengths of leftover wool, and little books were put together from old magazine articles.
Their house was a magical place to explore as a child. They had a pantry under the steep stairs which descended, mimicking the steps above, to a dark cool square below the bottom of the stairs. Here was a cold stone slab table for dairy produce as they had no fridge (meat was stored outside in a small mesh fronted wooden meat safe). At the top of the pantry steps, tins of food were hoarded in rows several deep, probably as a hangover from wartime rationing.
My mum, on the other hand, didn’t like the clutter, and sold or passed on everything. Grandma’s antiquated postcard album was taken to the market with all its interesting and amusing cards – such as the old lady waiting for her husband to return late, with a piece of patterned paper as an apron covering a hidden rolling pin! Mum traded in her own elegantly simple manual Singer sewing machine and her traditional Hoover.
My Legends of the Stars book from a neighbour was given to the local school library, my collection of small porcelain animal Wade Whimsies disappeared – a pair of fieldmice on ears of corn, a hedgehog, a rabbit and a grey squirrel – along with my gifted china blue rabbit from a generous aunt. Her all time classic was taking a newly delivered newspaper from the letterbox and putting it straight in the bin before anyone had had time to read it!
Maybe traits alternate generations, as I’m more like my grandma and can’t throw anything away! I always keep packaging and boxes, and have receipts from stores long gone. Tables, cupboards and drawers are filled with bits of ribbon, thread, buttons and zips. Stored in the garage are offcuts of wood, scrap metal and bits of plastic, part used tins of old paint – things you never know when you might need, and always do the day after you’ve thrown them away!
Bedding and cutlery from my grandad’s still grace our home, and mum’s curtains too. Along with the cushions she embroidered as a child, which grandma had saved. We’ve wine bottle lamps filled with marbles from winnings proudly collected, and a store of childhood board games and toys. There are bags of dead tealight candles we intend one quiet day to melt down and recycle into new ones, as we’ve done before.
Best of all, exercise books I wrote in when I was at school are tucked away in banana boxes in the loft. We were advised these were the strongest type of box when we were packing up to move home. The removal man, who had a different leaving themed song for every room he emptied, couldn’t believe how many boxes of stuff we had packed into such a small house, it took him forever to shift them all!
I guess they’re tiny bits of stability in this whirlwind changing world, a home full of keepsake memories, reminders of much simpler times. I pity those left to clear this house when we’ve gone!
So I welcome grey squirrels to my garden,
and cannot really complain,
when they dig up my plants to bury,
their stores of nuts and grain,
as I’ve inherited their hoarding instinct,
deep within my veins!
