51) Bear with me - Life has been busy.

 Since the funeral, and even though I've understood all my life, that one day that house would be down to myself and Ant to sort out, the enormity of the task is still sinking in.

The things we have found are crazy mad. It's a constant surprise in a 'what on earth is in this box?' kind of way.

We have found;

• A large box full of garish, vomit inducing swirly carpet and underlay offcuts from the lounge - laid in 1970. The whole box has been in the living room taking up space since then.
• An envelope full of Fairy liquid advertising posters.
• An envelope full of bits of wax which have fallen off or down the side of candles in mixed colours.
• A box of bits of cut off copper pipe - had been painted so had been used at some point.
• a bag of three new stopcock taps.
• An old engineering manual from 1973 - out of date but with a sheet of 12, King George V, mint stamps.
• A box of bits of metal - pipe bits, brackets, screws, unidentifiable bits.
• several unopened and well out of date full ins of roses/heroes/quality street.
• A huge number of shoes - never worn and with their partners missing.
• An old Austin car Haynes manual - with a whole sheet of  200 stamps. 1/2p value so £1 total.
• Odd pairs of new shoes in boxes and bags, so old they split when bent.
• Half drunk bottles of Rum and Brandy and Sherry which had to be poured down the sink.
• A tin of what once were peaches, black stuff has oozed out somehow and adhered the tin to the shelf. Once free, the tin weighed virtually nothing. I don't know where the peaches went.
• A gorgeous old hardbacked and illustrated Peter Pan book.
• Two green flamenco dresses age 8 and 10, clearly meant for my daughters 14 years ago.
• A small boys dungarees aged 18m - probably for my son, now aged 23.
• A teddy bear - squished flat and covered in years of dust, under 2 heavy boxes.
• A crisp multipack bag full of empty and flattened crisp packets - all laid neatly on top of each other.
• Another carpet, used, beige, about 6ft x 5ft, rolled up behind the sofa. Due to this, the sofa spent its life three feet further forward than it should have done for 15 years, making the room 3ft smaller.
• Seven tins of Heinz tomato soup, all covered in black sticky stuff stuck to the shelf. One was hissing at me so it went in the garden until I deem the explosion risk low enough to transport it to the tip.
• 
  

50) The funeral part 2 - the memorial service.

 Friday September 4th 10:30

Today was the 2nd part of dad's farewell/memorial/funeral, (the cremation was done 3 weeks ago).  This was a rather more light hearted affair at the church he'd attended regularly since it was built in about 1965.

The cremated remains were on a table in a casket at the front of the church where the coffin would have been, had it had been a traditional funeral.

The vicar gave an absolutely perfect service - with the eulogy I sent him woven into it. He didn't make dad out to be someone he wasn't and we were grateful for that.

'He was a great collector - a collector of Stuff... Lots and LOTS of stuff.'  There was a light-hearted giggle from the congregation. 'He leaves a legacy which Izabelle and Ant will remember him by for a very long time.' that got a smirk and a few giggles from the congregation.

I am definitely convinced we did this funeral the right way for our family. Funeral Directors are seeing more and more bespoke type funerals these days. 

The traditional church funeral where the coffin is wheeled into the church in front of friends and family and the service is done with the deceased in the room. A dead body, in a box, right there in front of everyone.

If you're like me, your thoughts are just that - 'Erm, there's a dead body in that wooden box there,' I keep glancing at it. I don't really know what I expect may happen but it is unsettling. Sometimes there are other clues that a person who is no longer living is in the room - sometimes, especially if the temperature is a little on the warm side, nature takes hold and odours get out. This is at best unpleasant. The funeral directors do their best - often the person is wrapped in waterproof body bags where necessary and there are absorbent crystals which can be put in the coffin to prevent - er - leakage.

At the end of the funeral service, the coffin is whisked back out and loaded onto the back of a Hearse and half the people, including close family, swan off in a stretch Limo and a swarm of family saloons up to the crematorium leaving other friends and family, who may have driven miles and miles to be there to support the living family members alone at the church with nobody to talk to.

At the crematorium, the same happens again. The coffin is wheeled in and placed on a catafalque which is a raised platform. The coffin stays there all through the second service, which is usually shorter than the church service but similar. As the service ends, dependent on family choice, the curtain is either left open until the family have all filtered past and out into the wild blue yonder or it's closed atmospherically slowly. This is the part I loose all my composure and howl like a baby.

All this costs - a lot.  By the time you have added the funeral director fees, transport of the deceased, a coffin, the preparation and storage of the deceased, a hearse, a limousine or two, the minister or celebrant or humanist, the hire of the church and the crematorium, the funeral staff, the cremation fee and the flowers, you're looking at the best part of £6000 upwards these days. Burials are not that different as far as cost goes, because instead of the cremation fee, you have to buy the burial plot and pay for it to be dug and prepared. Then there's the headstone - solid marble, plus the engraving and installation - it's going to cost a fair bit.

So people are looking for options. It's difficult. Life is expensive right now, and death is even more so. Life is hard and when you're going through all the aftermath of a bereavement which you have little choice about, to be frank, you just don't need all that as well.

And social pressure makes people feel guilty about not being able to keep up with the Joneses.

Let the Joneses do it their way, I say. You do it YOUR way. Every single family is different and there are many options these days. It's a little bit sneaky too because some people don't like to talk about death and dying and funerals and to some extent, that becomes the advantage of the funeral companies because they know it and they play on it.

The simplest and most cost effective way is the Direct Cremation. this is where the deceased is taken to the crematorium in a simple coffin, with no family present, the cremation is done and the ashes are ready for the family to have back after a few days. 

The ashes are returned to the family by default in a simple Eco Box, this is a box, about the size of a shoe box, made of a cardboard covered in a muted colour, often  bearing the name of the crematorium. The deceased person's name, cremation reference and date of cremation is also put on the outside. Inside the box, the ashes are usually inside a further, inner bag, often made of paper.

For the cremated remains, scatter tubes of various designs are available to purchase for between £25 and £30 for an adult size. These are large tubes, made of sturdy cardboard with various choices of different designs on the outside, such as flowers, hobbies or nature scenes. The funeral director can put the ashes into the scatter tube container for you and seal it. These tubes, providing they are kept dry, can be kept at home for as long as necessary, until the time is right for the ashes to be scattered. When the time comes, the lid is taken off and inside is a perforated disc which needs to be pushed through and the tube can then be passed around as required and the ashes scattered.

Or if it's more your thing, the ashes can be put and kept in an urn on the mantlepiece.

Sometimes the funeral director is able to keep ashes until the spouse of the deceased also passes and the ashes can then either be mixed together to be scattered or interred.

So, things to think about to keep costs low.

1) Have a direct cremation - despite these being advertised on the tv everywhere, they are usually also available from your local funeral director. The advantage is your passed person will usually stay in your part of the country and as a result, often be back with you sooner. - Points to remember there is NO ATTENDANCE AT ALL. Often the funeral company will not be able to tell you when or where the cremation will be done - if they have access to a few different crematoriums, your passed person could potentially be sent to any of them (they're all regulated). They don't want to tell you when as they don't want people turning up at the crematorium, 'to pay our respects' as there is nowhere for these people to go. No crematorium chapel will be booked. No attendance means just that, none at all, not even the nearest and dearest. Nobody. Sit at home and think about your passed person instead, raise a glass, walk the dog, sit on a mountain, whatever it takes.

2) Bespoke Direct Cremation. This may or may not be an option in your area - ask around. You still have the direct cremation as above, but you're able to pay a little extra for the facility to view your passed person before the cremation. (the charge is made because the deceased has to be taken into the funeral home chapel of rest, which takes time and staff).You may be able to choose what they wear to their checking out event. You may be able to pay extra to ensure they are taken to the crematorium of your choice. Ask about options.

3) A backwards funeral. You have a direct cremation for your passed person and have the ashes back. The ashes can be placed into a casket or a scatter tube or stay in the Eco Box. In the UK a casket is like a mini coffin, but more of a rectangle shape, again about the size of a shoebox. It's for the cremated remains. You can have this casket at a celebration of life kind of service wherever it suits - a church with a minister, a hired venue, top of a mountain, by the sea, down the local. You do you and Celebrate your passed person's life your (their) way. You could do the scattering at the end (check with the landowner if this is allowed first). You save a lot and it may be the last thing your passed person would have wanted anyway. You can choose a minister, a humanist, a celebrant - whatever suits YOUR family. The funeral director will be able to point out the right one for YOU. Some folk want a bit of humour, some don't. Whatever sails your ship.

Remember, lots of folk don't want a traditional send off. They don't want a funeral and everyone being a red-eyed, snotty mess. They want their life celebrated. Also some of them genuinely want their loved ones not to have to take out a second mortgage to pay for their send off. It's just one day. A funeral is lots of faff, fuss and stressful anyway. There's really no need. Remember them in other ways. Have a mood board at the bash with photos of them doing goofy things. Remember them as they were and as they would want to be remembered. Nobody should be judging you about your choices for your family. Do what's best for you.

I did what was best for me (but a few rules were bent as I work for a funeral company). I had a direct cremation for dad but I was able to walk him in through the chapel while my choice of tune played (dad's favourite - Jesu joy of man's desiring). At the end of the song, the funeral director asked me if I would like a moment. I stood there alone, with one hand on the coffin, said a few words, turned and left. Five minutes start to finish. Just me there... and dad.

49) In between funerals, neighbours and discoveries

                                                                    Mum's wedding ring

I've recovered from dad's cremation fairly quickly, although I still have episodes of tears should someone unexpectedly take me aside and ask, genuinely, if I'm OK. My immediate reaction is 'Don't be nice to me...' followed by a flood of tears, which is, with hindsight a bit rude, although those who know me get it and it's all OK.

We had the ashes returned from the crematorium on Monday and I've put him on a shelf for the time being. He'll be put in a casket before the memorial service in a couple of weeks.

I've been going to Ant's house (feels weird calling it that), every other day as I have to keep going and not loose momentum here.  The task is ENORMOUS and I'm the only one driving it forward.

Ant means well and he has a heart of gold, but he's never been taught how to clean or tidy or de-clutter. He just doesn't know how. His learning difficulties mean he doesn't retain things. If I see a pile of papers at the far end of a room, I'll climb over to get them. I pick up a few at a time as this involves much reaching over many unstable piles of stuff, lifting and leaning. I will ask Ant to take a pile from me as I lean precariously on one leg holding a heavy pile of papers for him to take from me. He hesitates as if he's waiting to be presented with them or they're going to bite him, meanwhile my back is about to give out. He finally takes the papers and I turn back to get more. I turn back to pass the papers to him and he is still standing there with the original pile I just gave him in his arms. He needs to be told to put the first pile down and he needs to be told where to put them (there's nowhere to put anything yet). As I turn to pass  him the second pile, I find him still standing with the first pile in his arms. After the 2nd pile, he's wandered off, bored. I later find all the piles in different places so I have to clear them again.

I've found Ant is best at level one clearing - I take a box (there are thousands) and Ant will go through it, taking out all the stuff like newspapers, cereal boxes, old magazines and junk mail. He then filters out the stuff with names and addresses which he keeps in a box for me to take home and sort.

I went to the house with Ant last week after work. The intention was to do a few boxes and leave. The first box was full of the usual junk - mainly letters, newspapers and the odd bit of rubbish and bits in the bottom - paperclips, dust, odd screws, old stamps, a few scrunched up receipts, some crumbs, a few dried peas and an old cork. As I sifted the  remnants of the box, I found a folded brown window envelope. I unfolded it to check, often there's a £5 or a book of old stamps inside. A note written on the outside 'wedding ring for family of ... To be returned to family.' As I opened it, two pieces fell out, both parts of my late mother's wedding ring which had been cut off and given to the family. Dad had put it in an old box. Why he put it there, how he thought he would ever find it again and what he was going to do with it are anyone's guess. 

We've advised Ant to keep going to his workplace for the sake of  his sanity. His workplace is 17miles from home and he has to take three busses there and three busses back. He attends three times a week. He doesn't get paid. he works at a community centre for the disabled. He has to pay to go there.

Ant's working day is therefore made up of a few hours of travel, 2 hours of work and a few hours back. It makes him happy and he has friends there.

When I go to the house to do some tidying, Ant gets very tired of it very quickly.  After about an hour, I'm just getting started and he is ready for a cup of tea/a break/lunch. He says things like 'We've done a good day's work today,' 'we should be proud of ourselves,' I'm worn out,'  'I've been up since 5.30,' 'we need a break,' I won't mind if you want to call it a day now.'

It's SO much easier faster and more productive if I go when Ant is at work because I'm alone in the house for many hours.

I've had many offers of help and I've had actual help. Julie, Andrea and Jane - amazing people, what can I say. Thank you - really I am SO very grateful. Yesterday we had clouds and a light breeze for the first time in a very long time and so we started on the garden which is starting to look abandoned. The garden is very important if we want to keep the neighbours happy and stop the place looking derelect and attracting the wrong sort...

Andrea and I got sorted with clippers and a green bin. We worked hard. By the end of three hours solid we'd filled three green bins with gardening waste, mainly brambles and shrub clippings. Two of the neighbours allowed us to use their bins. After we'd finished it hardly looked any different :(

We have to wait now for the bins to be emptied so we can do more.

47) When life gives you lemons - it'll probably give you even more lemons.

                                                                            Before

After

                                                        At the recycling centre

 Saturday 8th August 2026.  We decided to tackle a bit of the garage today. The strategy was that if we could get that clear then we would have somewhere to put things from the house that we may need to get out of the way during the big clear which me may want to sell or donate.  The issue being that currently if we pull something out from the hoard which needs to be kept, there is still nowhere to put it other than on top of another pile - this becomes counter-productive as we have to move the same things again and again. 

We opened the garage and it was so full, there was a mini avalanche of dust and stuff. We shut the door again. We swore. Should we just go to the pub instead? No. It was 10 O'clock on a Saturday morning. We decided to crack on.

We dragged a ton of stuff out and found an old valve type radio, a newspaper from the day after King George V funeral. A few bundles of Children's Encyclopaedia magazines, which, it turns out, makes a lovely mouse nest, a christening card from my own funeral, a vomit inducing piece of 1960's carpet and lots of bits of wood, plasterboard, metal and more mouse nests.

We stuffed the car full the poor thing was creaking. We managed to close the boot and off we went. 

I live in a mountainous area and our local recycling centre is on a very steep hill. Saturday is a very silly time to go to the council tip, because everyone goes there on a Saturday. We got in the queue and after 59 minutes, we were at the front. Just as we were being called up, my partner put his foot on the clutch to take off and BANG it  hit the floor. Clutch gone, very expensive and very embarrassing. we managed to get it to the side. 

Fair play to the workers, they coned us off and directed everything around us. We rang the RAC. After listening to various stupid and irrelevant messages we got through to an actual person (I know!). We told person that my partner was diabetic and we had broken down miles from a shop or food source and he had eaten his emergency rations and was getting hungry. Please could they be quick. Three more calls and three hours later they arrived.  The man had a look and declared it 'BROKE'. He said he couldn't tow it as it was a 4x4 so he would call the tow truck... it may be some time. He did offer my partner his own sandwiches, bless him.

The site closed at 5 and at 4.30 the RAC was sending texts saying they would be there between 3-5. At 4.30 this changed to between 8 and 11 that night.  This was for an emergency. The last time I spoke to them to explain our situation as partner was getting low on blood sugar ,despite the sandwiches, low on patience and extremely arsey. I said it could turn into an emergency as he was diabetic and we had no food and, helpfully, he said if it was a medical emergency, I should call the emergency services. Well I'd never have thought of doing that if he hadn't said. Helpful chap.

We ended up leaving the car at the site overnight and it was collected the following day - Sunday.

Sunday was the day I was going to church for the first time in many years. It was dad's church and I wanted to get all the 'sorry to hear about your dad' comments out of the way before the funeral. I was also going to meet the Vicar at the funeral home afterwards so he could give dad the prayers of committal. I was expecting to go alone, knowing my partner never liked my dad and not expecting any support from him. However my daughters offered to come with me and were a great support.

We got through it between us. Dad's been given his committal prayer so has his passport and ticket and is ready for the onwards journey now.

46) My new life, challenges and little rays of sunshine. Welcome to my life.

                                                                       A box of odd shoes

It's been three weeks today since dad passed away and I've been busy.

I have been round to the house - the mountain, almost every day. I go at the weekends and I go after work. I fill my car up and when Freddie is full, I take everything to the local recycling centre.

In Cardiff we are only allowed 26 visits to the recycling centre every year. For those not familiar, a recycling centre is the council tip where you are expected to put as much into recycling as possible and the remainder can go in a skip for landfill. Nobody wants to put everything in landfill and so people try really hard to comply. 

There are separate skips (dumpsters) for wood, metal, small electricals, carpets and bed quilts, hard plastics, paint, paper, books, clothes (wearable), garden waste, bottles, cardboard, batteries, oil, fridges and freezers, televisions and probably a few I have forgotten about. Not every recycling centre has skips for all things - car tyres and plasterboard are banned at our local one.

The thing is there are many things in this particular house that I don't know what to do with. So far I have found 37 odd shoes in ONE ROOM. Most of these shoes have no wear at all on the sole, suggesting they may well have been new and never worn. Now however, they could be anything up to 40 years old. Two were partnered up so they can maybe go to charity. However, I have no idea how long they have been there - some of the shoes split the top from the sole the minute I bend tested them. Sadly those have to go to landfill.  Even though they are some vile sort of open toe men's sandal, I'm sure there are SOME men out there who would wear them. So should I take them to the charity shop?

Ant has started getting nervous if I throw anything out, saying he could have them to wear. I know Ant is almost 60, but I don't think wearing things the wrong size, and the style of a 95 year old who never had any fashion sense to start with. Ant has said this about shoes, jackets, sweaters, anything and everything. I have started going round while he's out.

There are 4 televisions - the old huge box type ones in the house. I eyed one with a view to flinging it out. 'That's brand new.' said Ant.

'But you cant get them to work on a modern TV system,' I said - the new ones are all digital.'

'You can use them with a Digibox.' said Ant, confidently.

'But you can't buy a Digibox any more can you?' I asked him, getting a little frustrated but trying not to let it show.

'No.' he agreed. 'But I have three spare ones, and that TV is brand new.'

Ant's definition of 'Brand New' is clearly far removed from my own.

I gave up for the time being. I never anticipated Ant to have issues getting rid of stuff. However, to keep the peace, I've told him many times I won't throw anything out he wants to keep.

I moved on and picked up an old chocolate wrapper and a satsuma net bag from the top of a pile. 'Ant, Where's the bin-bin?' I've started calling the general waste (non recyclables) bin the bin-bin - as opposed to the paper bin or the plastics bin or the garden bin or the glass bin.'

'Errrrrrr.'

'Ant, you know t- he bin where you put normal rubbish that you can't recycle. You know - the BIN bin.'

Ant reverted to his generic reply when he doesn't know what he is expected to say, 'Errrr - I don't know really.'

'Ant!, Where do you put like plastic wrappers and sweet paper and old tissues and bits of string and that sort of stuff?'

'Erm, I don't know.'

'Ant, are you telling me you and dad never had a bin? Like a bin to put rubbish in...?'

'Errrrrr no. I don't think so.'

I realised he was probably right. They never threw anything out. Any tissues or paper would go in the open fire in the living room, anything else just got put between a box or in a bag and put in some nook or cranny. The black bin was NEVER put out. I located the black bin about 3 months ago - there were two of them, a large one and a newer smaller one. The larger one wasn't a current issue and he should have returned it to the council. Both bins were full of wood pieces, I assume for the fire.

I found an old bucket by the fire and explained to Ant how we'd use it as a bin.

45) Just when you think things are going well. Mums are always right.

                             That carpet has finally gone. My mother was right after all.

The dreadful carpet of my youth

Its final destination :)

Many years ago. 1977 or thereabouts, when I was just a child, there was a carpet, which was delivered, in a roll, brand new, in some sort of plastic wrapping, to my house. 'Where'd you want it mate?' said the carpet delivery bloke. 

'Ah, just put it on the stairs for now,' said dad. 

'Not being funny mate, but be careful you don't leave it rolled up too long or you'll have trouble laying it flat,' 

Oh, if only he'd known.

'I'll be fitting it later, just leave it there will you.' Dad never took well to being told what to do.

School-aged me was quite excited; a new carpet, which smelled fresh and lovely and would make our home look lovely - like everyone else's home, was about to be laid in our house. A lovely gold and brown swirly design with autumn flowers and a nice fresh springy feel to walk on. Mum was excited. Their current flooring was just the wooden plank floorboards with a rug by the bed. How lovely to have a nice bedroom carpet at last in their bedroom.

For the time being, dad said, it would be ok rolled up on the stairs 'until he had time to clear a bit of room to lay the carpet himself at the weekend.

The weekend came and went. 'We'll both be dead and buried before anything gets done with that bloody carpet,' said mum, under her breath.

The week turned into the following month. The month turned into the following season. Winter was now fast approaching. 'Can we see if we can get the carpet fitted before the winter?' Mum asked.

'We'll see.' dad said, as he disappeared into the garden to cut the grass and do a spot of weeding.

Winter turned colder, the ground was hard and frozen. Mum bought bed socks and a warmer nightie. 'Can we have the carpet down before Christmas?' she asked, trying to sound casual.

'We'll see.' said dad. 'I have to do this damn tax return or they'll fine me.' He went outside to sweep up some leaves.

Christmas came and went. It was a cold winter in 1977.  Mum got more bed-socks for Christmas.

Spring arrived and the carpet was still rolled up on the stairs. I started school and had new friends round. What fun to slide down the rolled carpet. Dad said not to play on the carpet as it was brand new and we'd ruin it.

The following Christmas came and went. Mum asked again about the carpet. 'If I clear some of the stuff, can we put the carpet down in the bedroom?'

'I've got so much to do. you just don't realise what I have to do.' dad said to her. 'If you keep nagging I shan't do the damn carpet at all!'

Mum tried to clear the stuff herself. we kids helped. It was fun making a space for the carpet by moving everything to the sides of the room.

Dad came in from the garden. He was furious. 'Don't you move my things or I'll never be able to find them again.' he snapped, storming back out into the garden in a strop, to cut the grass.

1978 ended, as did 1979 and 1980 and a few more years too. My school friends would come to visit and always went a little quiet when they came in. 'S'cuse the mess, we're decorating.' said the young teenage me, quoting my mum word for word with what she said when guests came around. As if that made everything OK. I didn't think it mattered that there was no painting stuff in sight, no dust sheets, Mum said it, so it was so.

1983 came and I'd noticed, when I'd been invited to friends houses, that they had single colour beige carpets - imagine how that would show the dirt. They had to take their shoes off when they went in their own house. They must be very strict, I thought, because they had NOTHING anywhere hanging about. No papers on the table, no boxes of stuff all over the floor, nothing on the stairs, no piles of papers on the table.

At my house there was stuff everywhere. It was normal; everywhere there was an open space, it was filled with boxes of  'stuff'. The carpet was still on the stairs, still rolled up, although the top edge, where the bag was open, was getting a little frayed.

1984, an old friend came round. 'That carpet's still there.' she said, in surprise. To be honest I'd become blind to it, like the wallpaper, or the stair banister, it was now a fixture. We were all used to having a narrowed stairway. Mum had stopped asking about the carpet.

1987, the polythene bag on the carpet ripped and bits were hanging off. We decided it was best to take it off as it gathered the dust and was making the place look tatty. There was no way the carpet would go in the bedroom now. There was FAR too much stuff there now.  Mum had a little pathway to her side of the bed through the piles of dads stuff. Mum had more going on in her head than that bloody carpet. She was starting to forget things.

1990 The carpet would emit a plume of dust if it was knocked while we went past. The end was very frayed. Mum was taken into the local mental health hospital, where she sadly passed away in 1994.

I moved out to my own place the year mum passed away. I needed everything for my new flat, including a new carpet. I could have cut that carpet on the stairs to size and made do with that but I never mentioned it. Nobody had a swirly carpet any more. I certainly didn't want that one. I bought a room-size pale grey remnant for my flat and fitted it myself the same day.

In 2005 I met a friend from school in the local pub. We were both grown up now and had a good catch up over a few beers. 'You haven't still got that carpet rolled up the stairs at your dad's house have you.' she laughed. 'Do you remember? It had some sort of 70s swirly design on it.' 

I laughed too 'Haha, course not,' I lied, and changed the subject.

2013, dad fell off a ladder and went to hospital. He'd broken a bone in his back falling off a ladder in the garden and had to wear a brace. He wasn't allowed home from hospital until the house was deemed 'safe'. The carpet on the stairs had to go. Not wanting to upset him, even though I was now an adult, I spent 6 weeks organising the house and struggled through the clouds of dust to put the damn carpet in my old room - now full of everything which had lined the corridor and stairs. The carpet cracked loudly when we bent it in half to fit in the bedroom and left a trail of black rubber backing.

Christmas Day 2025, dad fell and broke 3 ribs. The paramedics said they were sorry but they'd have to report the house as a safeguarding issue. Dad was again not allowed out until the house was 'safe'. There was no longer any room to move things about. It took 4 of us 30 minutes to clear enough space for the paramedics to get him out of the house. Dad wasn't allowed home again until the house was safe. I was quoted £2600 to clear one room and the hallway - everything would be cleared and then put back in and a mattress would be taken for disposal. The carpet was buried.

I worked like a dog and did the work myself. Nine weeks later he was allowed home. He was home for 3 months and then he fell over again and went back into hospital. It became clear he wasn't coming out again and he passed away age 95 in July 2026. 

While he was in hospital I took the initiative to start the clearing process and on August 1st 2026, I had cleared enough space that I could get to the carpet. It took its final journey and as you can see from the photos, it is now in a recycling centre.

Mum was right. Mums usually are...

44) OHIO. Why normal doesn't work here.

 

The thing with having a social media account or a blog or whatever, it attracts comments. Most of which doubtless are made with only good intentions but it makes you think sometimes... sunshine you have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA. 

Apart from the 'why don't you just bin the lot' brigade, and the 'why don't you get a company in?' comments, another example is 'use the OHIO method'. No I'm not off on holidays; the last holiday didn't go too well if you recall.

Anyway OHIO is Only Handle It Once. It was suggested I do this with each piece of paper from the house  This of course makes sense in a normal world. However, in my world...

1. Get the bit of paper from on top of a dusty heap of many many other bits of paper.

2. Sneeze

3 Readjust pile so the rest of it doesn't avalanche on you.

4. Get a wodge of papers

5. Find somewhere to put the wodge so you can sort them.

6. Remove obvious rubbish like newspapers, old Lidl magazines, junk mail, receipts, envelopes and flattened cereal boxes.

7. Put remaining papers in a fresh pile and add more to the pile to take away to sort at my own house in my own time and away from the dust.

8. Carry new sorted pile to my car and drive it 7 miles to my house. Take it around the back for the wind and sun to remove more dust.  Wait an hour.

9. Sift pile again, removing bank statements from envelopes and removing junk flyers and anything over 5 years old.

10. Take filtered statements into house and sort into 25 piles of different companies and put in poly pockets.

11. Put all back in plastic box A to Z to deal with tomorrow.

12. After you have done steps 1 to 10 many many more times, you will have a vague picture of what you're dealing with and only then can you summarise whether you have something worth chasing. If you do, then chase it.

The first time you pick up something like a bank statement, or maybe a share certificate from 1974 the first thing is to check the date. It could be any date back as far as 1959 so there's no indication whether it's a current account or one that's been closed 10 years. You need to put it aside to see if there's a more recent one for the same company. You can't bin it in case it's a dormant account. the first time you touch it you don't know if its relevant or not.

Dad's filing system appears to have been keep everything and file it in the house. As long as he didn't throw it away, he would be able to find it should he ever need it. As a result of this mindset he kept;

• Every letter
• Every bank statement (monthly by post - he was too old to understand computers).
• Every receipt 
• Every bit of junk mail
• Every Newspaper
• Every Free newspaper
• Every insert which came with letters
• Every holiday brochure
• Every trade magazine
• Every 'WHICH' magazine - he had a monthly subscription since about 1994 which he never got around to cancelling.
• Every charity begging letter
• Every set of house insurance documents - renewal advice and renewal confirmation letters
• cardboard from shoeboxes
• Cardboard inserts which came with clothes and bedlinen
• Travel documents from every holiday he had ever been on
• Every TV licence he ever had
• Every MOT, tax and car repair documents for every car he'd ever owned
• Every document ever received for his life insurance
• Every birthday card anyone in the family ever had
• Every Christmas Card the family had ever received ever - in its envelope, with a list of cards sent and received that year

All of the post that was delivered was kept in its original envelope, he often wrote 'need to be actioned' or just ticked the outside.

He also kept empty envelopes - for example those which an appointment letter from the hospital was delivered in. 

He kept all the Lidl and Aldi magazines - we have found full boxes of these and previously asked him why he wanted to keep them. He'd told us that he may want to know what he'd paid for something.

His filing system also appeared to involve many, many, many of those boxes they have in Lidl and Aldi which the fruit and vegetables are displayed in - about 4" high by about 24 or 48" wide. When they started charging for carrier bags, he had decided to carry his shopping to the car in these boxes, which inevitably then got placed onto a pile, and filled with paperwork until the box either fell off the top or until another box appeared in another room and became the favoured box.

Also he kept cereal boxes, flattened (I don't know why either).

Wrapping paper - used, but saved in case he could re-use it.

Paper bags