Dreaming in 1930’s vision

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We made it. Finally after six long months we’ve actually moved into our 1930’s house this week and it feels like bliss.

When the electrician finally gave the all clear on the rewiring job, we yipped with joy, stuffed all our belongings into the car and an hour later began a new phase of our lives.

Now you’d have thought that with all the experience most of us have when we move house often enough, that the process gets easier. (sigh) noooo. It just doesn’t and even though I have moved around a lot in my life (16 times so far) it doesn’t get any less of a pain. In fact it gets harder the more mementoes we gather as we age.

 The cull

Although I love the final result of being somewhere new and excting it still a dreaded process to face all those still and silent boxes waiting for their contents to be evenly distributed in a house that is inevitably smaller than the last. And all the time keeping that “Less is more”‘ sensibility. Whether its the too large coffee table, too many mismatched mugs or simply the amount of towels that migrate from one place to the next we should begin to reduce what we gather if we aren’t to suffocate in our mess. That is why this time around I am going to adopt the cull method and be done with the things that make me go “Pffffftt” when I open the box. The trick to this process is to be harsh and not fall into the “I might use it/fit into it one day” trap.

I know its going to be painfully tricky to extract my overflowing hoard, I am a very sentimental person by nature and have been known to hang onto the most bizare of things (items made of wood, broken jewlery) as they might have once been made/worn by a beloved family member. The cull process is best if you’re relaxed and sat cross legged on the floor with the boxes closed in front so you can spread out your soon-to-be-rejected things. I drag an item out, one at a time (I haven’t seen it in over 6 months because its been in storage) and if my immediate reaction is negative then it goes in either the Car Boot Bag or Charity bag, depending on my assessed value of the item. keep what I love and makes me happy as well as the things I know i’ll use. The advantage to having had everything in storage is that I have been able to live without it. Having that distance does help me feel less guilty of rejecting it.

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laundry bags ready and waiting, one of my treasures to keep, my antique tin chest

Sounds simple right? well so far i’ve filled up the Car boot bag half way with clothes, so yes its working well so far but I have a long way to go if I want the garage to be halfway empty.

The husband has assured me i’m far too “past it” / extremely unlikely to have any opportunity to wear my white and red retro 60’s roller skates (thanks for that spoil sport, someone prove him wrong please!!) but supose he’s right. Its good to think we’ll make some cash back on the unwanted and unloved stuff though which spurs me on a little.

My best advice to anyone who has a hording habit is to hide stuff away for a bit. If you see these everyday items, you don’t always realise you’re bored of them. How long has your front room looked the way it does now because the background has blurred into nothingness so that you no longer appreciate it anymore?

I would love to hear your thoughts and tips on this because I know how hard de-cluttering can be. Drop me a note below if you have any advice for me with your cleansing cull tecnique…

Restoration wise this week; we’re still very much in the honeymoon period of our new home. Unpacking bags, making up beds and changing plugs. Setting up a new temporary kitchen station in preparation for when we knock the old one out.temporKitchnfilterbedmadeupfilter

I’m happy even going up and down the stairs (its been a long time since we lived anywhere with stairs so bear with me i’ll calm down soon) The house feels tranquil and its nice to see how well its been cared for by its previous owners.Somehow that good history has trancended through to the floors and walls creating a peacefulness throughout every room – a peacefulness until the work starts of course.

We are still learning the unfamilararity of our new abode. Adjusting to the squeaks and creaks in the middle of the night and steming drips from old taps and getting used to a life with people in the street outside our door, when we were used to nothing but a mountain breeze. Its nice though. We have convenience on our door step and our new house here is filled with infinate possibilities and I for one can’t wait for tomorrow when I can peel the old textured wall paper from the walls and get stuck into the transformation.

Thanks again to my lovely readers, especially those from overseas see you all next Sunday! – norgstar xxx

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The old watermill in Stur, Dorset

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