I shredded a little bit more of my life today. Although the filing cabinet is now down in the entrance hall, awaiting disposal, there still remains about 4 reams of dross piled up where it will offend me constantly, until I get it made into paper sphagetti too.
It’s a job I’ve been tackling off, and on, now for over two years, and I thankfully it will shortly be over.
I remember watching one of those stupid life-style programs years ago, of how liberating an experience it is to chuck out all the personal (and business) paper-trail of your past life. I always find the experience deeply disturbing. As every sheet has to be lifted into the shredder, it’s contents do an instant flash-back to a place, time and circumstance of the last 30, or so years. I quickly reach the stage when I simply want to drop the whole lot – intact – into my recycle bin, but knowing I can’t take the risk of not finding myself compromised from details on each sheet of paper.
Then there’s all the crap from the Inland Revenue, which I’m determined to hang on to, and which has to be laid to one side. The government is all too keen to keep records on almost everything thing we do, but that dosn’t stop them losing some, and before you know it it’s up TO YOU to prove you’ve already paid that outstanding amount.
So now that the cabinet is gone, and a no-longer required wardrobe, I can at last play my guitars etc, without banging the neck of an instrument every time I turn around.
My neighbours trees have gone. As a God-fearing Christian I hope he’s ashamed of himself. He told me the surgeons were coming to ‘cut’ them – he didn’t say ‘cut them down to the ground’ so I had assumed that they were simply to have a haircut. Now no more shimmering sunlight in the morning – just the full, undiluted fury from 10.00am onwards – that’s in the summer, cos in the winter it barely gets over the rooftops backing onto the gardens. I joke, but it actually made me quite upset they are gone.
More work done on ‘Sister Mildred’ over the past couple of weeks. Despite there being a few ’sticky’ bits, where I found myself weeping over the words as I wrote them, I believe I’ve made good progress, the end is now complete, and there are some pleasant sections to write, so I expect that writing the remainder of the story to be less emotionally demanding. Having read it over a good many times, I’m struck at how dark it is, and a little surprised at my choice of the difficult subject matter.
JWBD4 22 Sep 2009