I like china. A lot. Over the years I’ve amassed quite a collection. Not much of it is very rare or very valuable but it’s very pretty and, much to the horror of several other collectors of my acquaintance, I do use some of it. There’s nothing better than tea drunk from an antique china cup or cake eaten off a gorgeously decorated plate.
When Kevin and I got together we had to make space for his things and the growing number of our things and, as I’d been solely in charge of the interior design of this place – other than in my housemate’s room, this meant getting rid of some of my things. I was brave, I did a pretty ruthless china audit. The plan was to have a sale and split the proceeds between us and the charity CLIC. This we did but it wasn’t very well attended and there was still quite a lot of china left. It got put under the stairs. The new plan was to do a Car Boot. The months passed.
Last weekend we had Kevin’s parents to stay and this prompted the sort of household frenzy that sees you wanting radical and urgent solutions to problems you’ve put up with for ages. So, we wanted to move our “booze fridge” from our dining room to under the stairs. So, the china had to go. But it was pretty and it was part of “the look” of this place (before the books about Hitler and carelessly strewn underwear moved in) and I liked it and… and hadn’t I bought much of it in charity shops? And didn’t I have rather a lot to be thankful for? And did I really need the money a Car Boot would generate?
The thought journey I went on has surprised me by staying with me for over a week. I give to various charities every month and that giving is part of how Kevin and I have been brought up but, oddly, parting with those cups, saucers and plates was actually quite a wrench; happily though, the warm glow has endured too.