Today I wanted to buy a dress.
These are the ones I specially liked.
Two on eBay
And one on Toast.
Toast website, that is — not like jam on toast.
I've been writing this blog a long time — since 2009 — and if you are one of the people who has travelled along with me, you may be thinking, "Uh-oh. Here we go."
Because I have bought so many dresses like this. Bought them, and bought the underwear they require to allow me to drive them, bought the shoes that look right with them, bought the tights that cover my fairly shot legs sticking out from under them, bought the cardigans to go with them for the many days when they aren't warm enough — and got rid of it all; not once, several times over, plus plus.
I have an inner impetuous child — I looked back for the old posts where I wrote about her, can't find them, must have deleted them — whom I designated "Ember", and a mature and sensible self who speaks inside me with the voice of "Mrs Collins".
It was Ember who wanted the dress — I could tell. And I mean, seriously, I have had so many. Mrs Collins — dignified and sensible though she is — almost went into meltdown, tearing her hair and wringing her hands. In the end, Mrs Collins resorted to silently petitioning God: "Please. Don't let her do this. Don't let her go round the loop again. Please God, no."
It worked. Ember started to laugh. Mrs Collins sat down trembling with relief, promising Ember to take her into Hastings for a cup of coffee and anything she wanted to eat at all. Anything. Just don't buy a dress.
These rip tides are strong in a consumer society. I almost bought a dress.
What can I chuck out today?
Well, look, how about some simple junk?
Why have I got this stuff? Because I thought it would be useful one day — a lid to put buttons or pills in to stop them rolling off the bedside thingy, some green wire to tie up cables, some of these ribbons they irritatingly stitch into cardigans to stop them falling off the hanger (and I cut them out), some chopped-up hankies from making clothes for trolls, a puncture patch in a plastic bag, some metal things (I have no idea), a teeny tiny glass jar that might be just the thing.
Like having my own dear little miniature landfill site, innit?