Detritus

Sometimes you have to let go of all that stuff you've accumulated. We have boxes and boxes brimming with books and we've decided to offload a few to whatever charidee will have them. It's a tortuous time for a hoarder like me. No matter how dire some of these books are (and, as most of those about to be discarded arrived our way for review, the bulk of them are dire) I still don't like parting company. But, when the highlights of the piles of literary detritus are Clive James: Even As We Speak and David Baddiel's Whatever Love Means, I guess it really is time to let go. We have filled two boxes of stuff we are happy to see leave our company. That still leaves us with hundreds of books more than we need, if books are a thing we need. Ah, well, you can't hang on to everything - unless you're the late Mr Trebus off the telly. I reckon another couple of purges will ensure that our shelves will just be full of the cool stuff you like to pop on there to impress people and nothing worth reading.

Loving: Dr Who. Listening: AC/DC - Back in Black. Reading: Lone Wolf & Cub.