Design a site like this with
Get started

Old Clothes, Old Memories & Offensive Bedding

I was a bit more productive today having sorted through the piles of clothing stacked on the shelving unit in my bedroom and in the suitcase in the girl child’s room. I’ll be glad to see the back of that thing, I’ve been sorting through it for the past decade, thinking I should really do something about it and all the clothes in it that I don’t wear, won’t wear and can’t get my ass into… well, I can get my ass into a lot of them now, but now I wouldn’t wear them. My clothing style changes with my mood.

There were shirts in that suitcase that I haven’t worn in more than 15 years and 3 ball gowns I forgot I had. Not that I’m ever going to be going to a ball, but gorgeous dresses like that do not deserve to be dumped in a bin, so they’ve been carefully washed and hung up to dry. I’m pleased to say I can get into all of them. Yay.! I may sell them, if I can bear to part with them, but then again I could keep them and try them on every now and again and make myself feel good.

God knows I need it at the moment, after finding that all the colour in my hair has washed out, in a month.!! I asked Bear to take a photo of it for me, because every time I washed my hair, colour came out and I was getting a bit concerned, and justifiably so judging by the difference in colour after only 6 washes. I don’t blame my stylist, it’s my hair, over the past decade it’s become harder and harder to keep colour in it. The last colour I had before I moved to the Netherlands was a blue black and it was gone within 4 months. Since then any colour I put in comes out within weeks… I guess it’s time to stop dying my hair.

Bear and I now have a huge pile of stuff to be gotten rid of after sorting through and clearing out the cellar, the children’s rooms and our own bedroom. It’s been a long time in coming and will be the third time we’ve culled the rubbish that’s been hoarded over the past seven years. Slowly but surely our home is being dwindled down to the stuff we own and the stuff Bear has shipped from house to house that mostly used to belong to one ex- or another is being dumped. Can’t say I’m sorry, I’ve been sick of his constant attachment to crap that once belonged to someone he’s been vehemently denying ever having feelings for, for the past ten years.

Not that I can talk. I went through an old box of memories that I kept on top of my wardrobe and found a packet of old blueys my ex- had sent me from when he was in Bosnia, back in 1997. They went in the bin pretty quickly after I read three, all filled with demands for me to send him sweets and cookies and pervy photographic stuff and telling me about the fun he was having, the parties he was going to, the tan he was getting and the ass-licking and sucking up to hierarchy he was doing to gain favour. Not one word about our boys or me, or any concern or interest. Those memories I don’t want. I deserved better and so did my boys.

I also rediscovered a wealth of letters my beloved grandmother sent to me from the age of 18 to 30 when she used to write to me every month. I spent a few hours re-reading some, with a smile. It didn’t help me get any work done but they did make me feel better. I also found stuff my children had made for me and the birthday cards my eldest had drawn himself. So many bittersweet memories. Things like that can never be replaced and are so precious when life kicks you in the cojones and takes everything away that ever meant anything. 😦

Bear has yet to go through all his clothing, which is currently taking over the shelving unit in our bedroom. He’s lost so much weight in recent months that he can get back into clothes he had when he was in his twenties and has recently found old t-shirts he used to wear. I hope he doesn’t keep them all, I’m pretty certain 80’s chic is not a thing and I don’t need him starting a retro trend, it’s bad enough that Hammer pants have made a comeback here in the Netherlands.

Pup continues to drive me nuts. Yesterday I had to repair his squeaky bear and his rattly bunny as he’d ripped holes in them, and repair a huge rent in his bed, as he’d ripped it open and was caught eating the stuffing. This morning I was up at 3.30am because he was whimpering and whining, having an issue with his bed. I found him lying underneath it so took it out of the crate. He was happier then and wanted to go back to sleep, but at that time in the morning I decided he was to go to the toilet, as I wasn’t getting up again at 5am just for him to pee. Eventually he did go and we both went back to bed.

Bear was surprised to find him in his crate sans bed at 8am, but when he saw the state of it, it was obvious that sooner or later it would have had to be removed as Pup uses it as a chew toy, stress reliever and to exert his dominance over, it’ll be a gooey, pile of ripped stuffing in weeks. So he’s down to blankets in his crate, but it does give him more room to spread out. Doesn’t do a damned thing for his attitude though. He insists on chewing on my bike and the new fence posts, regardless the amount of times I tell him no and give him distraction toys or play with him, as soon as he decides he’s had enough entertainment back he goes to the bike and fence post.! Grr.!


Nationally Syndicated Editorial Cartoonist

A Family History in Letters

Letters from the women in my family to their mothers from 1910-1980.

What I found

The art of losing

The Belfast Belter

The Life and Times of a retired Soldier, Boxer, Pilot, Husband, Father and Grandfather

Reading Between The Lies

tales of untruths

Shine My Way

My adventures in trail running and awkward socials

Arts & Literature

A site by Clemens P. Suter

%d bloggers like this: