I admit it. I am a hoarder. I think it’s genetic.

My father is a hoarder. His father—we met Grandad a while back—was a mega hoarder. I remember, as a family after Grandad had died, having to spend weekends clearing out sheds and sheds of random stuff that had been saved “in case it was useful”.

To make matters worse, I married a hoarder.

Best Beloved is a retired electronics engineer and radio ham. A lot of his hoarding is old computer and radio gear, cables and electronic components. Let’s not mention the other hobbies we share, with all their different kinds of hoarded clutter…

Between us, we have two lifetimes of stuff. This wouldn’t be a problem if we lived in a much bigger house. At least my father has my mother to keep him in check. I don’t have anyone to hold up a mirror to my efforts, or to really help. Aside from his infirmity, Best Beloved would be utterly useless helping me declutter. It’s all down to me. It’s hard work.

Being a modelmaker as well, the tendency to keep odd things that could be used in a build is a tough one to fight. I have occasional bouts of chucking stuff away, but other stuff soon seems to arrive and occupy the space again!

It’s like a gas that expands to fill the available volume. If I could only get on top of the clutter that we have around this house I might then be able to control things better. There’s nowhere in the house with enough spare capacity to store things we want to keep while other things are sorted out and disposed of. Virtually every flat surface currently has at least two layers of disparate things on it!

Living in a slightly less cluttered environment would actually be better for my mental health.

The problem, I suppose, is finding the time to do it all. I will have to get on top of it eventually, but meanwhile it will be a little bit every now and then. Wish me luck.