IT’S a fairly new word and it’s perfect for summing up the situation.
“Oh we’re downsizing” you hear folks say, when, with too many years on the clock, they decide it’s time to invest in a smaller house with fewer rooms, a little garden and potential for a stair-lift.
It’s sensible of course. Maintaining a biggish house becomes more difficult for us with pension books in our pockets.
I’ve lived at No 5 for 32 years now. But it’s a family house and I’m “home alone”.
That’s why I’m seriously thinking of downsizing. But first I have to undertake the biggest job of all and that is rid the place of mountains of stuff, some of it in the attic and still unpacked from the last move in 1978.
If I told you the absolute truth, I’ve neither the energy of motivation to start on the task ... but start I have, wuzzing out a load of kitchen pots and pans I know I’ll never use again. I’ve taken a once-loved collection of LP records to the charity shop. What was the use of keeping them? The previous day I disposed of the decrepit Bang and Olufsen deck and speakers bought while at the other house.
Vast amounts of what can only be described as “stuff” has a new home ... on the tip.
And those old suits and shirts and shoes and over 100 ties I’ll never wear again have been another charity shop gain.
Each item had its own memory... happy or sad. Or a gasp of: “Why the hell did I buy that.”
But what about “upsizing.” Is there such a word? Well it happens ever so slowly over many decades of “I’ll keep this and I’ll keep that” and so the home of the hoarder becomes an often sad treasure trove of often worthless stuff.
In a way, downsizing makes me feel I’m throwing part of my life away. I am. But it’s time to move on.