Page 3 of A New Life in Amsterdam

I hate to admit it, but I quickly discover that this article is perhaps one of the more sensible features I have read in years.

For once, I’m being told to get rid of stuff instead of accumulating and buying into a lavish fancy lifestyle that the average person on the street cannot possibly afford.

I am soon engrossed and need to know more about decluttering and downsizing.

The article quickly fascinates me. It makes so much sense.

Do we really need all the clutter we have in our homes?

It is something I have been grappling with more and more recently.

I have a feeling that I am about to throw myself into the latest buzzword – decluttering!

I look around at all the things I have picked up over the years.

The first thing I notice is the pair of Delft china clogs I picked up in Amsterdam, which need a good dusting after being sat on the kitchen windowsill for over twenty years.

Then I turn to the cuckoo clock on the wall in the kitchen; a memory from a trip to Switzerland that the three of us went on when Hannah was small.

The cuckoo hangs lamely from a spring after Hannah managed to get up on a chair and pull at it, not long after we returned.

She yanked it out with all her might with her tiny little hands before I caught her.

It should have gone in the bin years ago, but I couldn’t bear to throw it out.

That cuckoo clock was the reminder of our special family holiday and so it has remained on the wall for all these years.

Sentimentality is a particular problem of mine.

After all, when the trip is over, only memories and souvenirs remain.

I turn my attention to the copper pan collection that is displayed in a glass cabinet beside the oven.

There is zero sentimental value attached to those.

I bought them at a designer outlet on a whim.

They seemed like a spectacular bargain, even though I knew I would only be cooking for one and not entertaining people like this set suggested.

As I look at the pans with hindsight, and the thought of clearing out my life in mind, I begin to realise that this was another purchase I certainly didn’t need.

After all, I eat a ready meal from a plastic tray most nights.

How could I possibly think that shopping could replace the family unit that I miss so much?

I need to get a grip. None of this can replace the yearning for my family.

I begin to resent all this clutter and decide that those pans will be the first thing I need to let go of – along with the left-handed golf clubs I inexplicably bought at a charity shop, despite not being either left-handed or interested in golf.

I look at myself in the huge silver mirror – a recent online purchase – and admit the truth to myself: ‘Sandy Davies, you have become a shopaholic.’

I stare at my reflection, realising that I have to resolve this problem.

I am committed to stopping, although I have never been one to do things by halves.

Paul always said it was everything or nothing with me.

When I get an idea in my head then I tend to become totally engrossed in it.

When I shop, I shop a lot, so when I clear out, I can imagine I might not have much left by the end of it.

Galvanised, I spring into action. No time like the present, as my mam used to say.

I roll up my sleeves, grab some bin bags and prepare to start. I look around and the full scale of the task assaults me. How on earth am I going to get through all this junk?

Do people follow feng shui nowadays? Looking at all this clutter, I imagine there is probably a lot of stagnant energy in this home.

No wonder I am feeling a little overwhelmed and stuck in a rut at the moment.

Maybe having a clear-out will release the flow of positive energy and my life will become more exciting overnight.

I can always hope! From the thought of feng shui, my mind starts to wander and I consider whether I should fill my house with crystals to attract some of that positive energy.

I saw some lovely ones for sale recently.

A heap of rose quartz could do the trick…

‘Nonsense, you need to get rid of things, not buy more!’ I shout at myself. I try to refocus and not get carried away down a rabbit hole of crystal healing, returning to the task in hand.

With the copper pans in a bag ready to sell, the next thing I do is remove the cuckoo clock from the wall.

I have a bit of a wobble and wonder if I can really bear to part with it.

I tell myself to think rationally and not emotionally.

This clock hasn’t worked for over sixteen years – why do I need to keep it?

Memories, my brain shouts at me! I tell my mind to shut up and throw the clock in the bin before I can be persuaded to put it back up.

Removing it leaves a small, faded patch of paint on the wall where it has hung for all these years.

It will need something new to cover it, unless I want to start redecorating.

I could go out and buy something new to hang there – perhaps an art print or a mirror – but then I remember again what the clear-out is in aid of and a better idea strikes me.

I have been looking for the perfect spot to put up a recent photo of Hannah.

I am filled with joy as I replace the broken clock with a photo in a frame that was hidden among some ornaments.

My gorgeous girl smiles down at me and already I feel better.

Perhaps decluttering will be easier than I thought.

I feel an immense sense of satisfaction as I continue my clear-out and carefully put a glass decanter on top of the saucepans in the bag.

The decanter was never used either and I wonder why I even bought it.

Then I remember that I picked it up in the outlet, when I was out shopping with Debbie.

Since she wanted one and told me how they were all the rage, I bought one.

At the time, it felt like a bonding session with my bestie during our shopping trip.

Now, as I look at the stuff already piling up in the bag, I feel disgusted.

None of this was ever going to be used, and looking at it makes me feel so ashamed.

The doorbell intrudes on my self-loathing, and I remember Debbie had promised to come over with some fresh tomatoes from her greenhouse. Amid the stack of blue and black bin bags that are waiting to be filled, I desperately try to make some kind of space in the kitchen so we can have a catch-up.

I always look forward to our Saturday morning chats.

Even though I can pick up the phone and speak to a few friends dotted around the UK, apart from retail staff Debbie can sometimes be the only person I see for a week or two.

Hannah’s having far too much fun settling into the glamorous Melbourne lifestyle, so although we are in touch regularly, we don’t tend to ring each other more than once every couple of weeks.

‘Hello, I come bearing tomatoes,’ says Debbie, with a big smile on her face. The first time I met Debbie at a village fete when we first moved here, she was selling her prize tomatoes and was joking and smiling then. She is always such a positive person.

‘Ooh, lovely. They look delicious. Maybe the microwave can have a night off. Come on in, but please excuse the mess.’

Perhaps I was a little too eager with my clear-out and should have at least waited until after Debbie had been over.

I do have a habit of being a bit disorganised and overwhelmed, but the kitchen looks like a tip with all this clutter being redistributed around the floor.

It is quite the struggle to search around for the cast-iron Japanese teapot I picked up in a fancy furniture store in Cardiff to make Debbie her brew.

‘Not thinking of moving out, are you?’ says Debbie, looking around at all the mess.

‘Not seriously. Even though Hannah thinks I should have a new start in life, and I should probably downsize. But, no, I’m not planning on going anywhere quite yet. Besides, I have nowhere to go.’

I tell Debbie about the feature on decluttering that I just read, and she immediately agrees that it sounds like a great idea.

‘I need to do that myself. Although,’ she pauses, looking around, ‘I’ve nothing like the amount of stuff you have.’

Has she noticed all along that I have a problem and not said anything?

‘Yes, well. I’ve gone a bit over the top with my shopping recently, so I’m going to put a lot of it up for sale.’

‘That’s brilliant. You should put all the money together and treat yourself to a holiday or something. When was the last time you got out of here?’

‘Good question.’ I try to think. The furthest I’ve been in the past year or two was an Abba Voyage concert in London with Debbie. Paul, Hannah and I were always travelling. I suppose I stopped because I no longer had anyone to go with.

‘You know, there are holidays for single travellers with no supplement. Why don’t you plan an organised trip? That’d be nice.’

‘I don’t know. I’m not sure I fancy anything organised. I wouldn’t want to go on a bus tour or anything. I’ve always liked doing my own thing. I’m happy enough with my own company, to be honest.’

‘Well, if you don’t mind me saying, you don’t seem very happy in your own company. Since Hannah left you’ve been, well…’

‘Well, what?’

‘Miserable? Lonely? Umm, I don’t know. You just don’t seem your usual bubbly self.’

‘I’m fine. I keep myself busy. In fact, it’s super busy with my needle felting at the moment. I’m making fifty miniature labradoodles for a group on Facebook. They’ve already paid and everything. I’ve a load of new customers and I’m always getting new enquiries.’