The great outdoors has little appeal. I trudged round the far field with the dogs and that was enough for all three of us. Since it's so cold and miserable outside, I've been looking for indoor jobs. I somehow, almost by accident, embarked on the spring cleaning of the utility room and the little rooms nearby. I lifted the washing machines out and found one of those free samples of washing powder that they give to new mothers in hospital.
'Fairy Congratulations on your new arrival A gift from Fairy for delicate newborn skin'
I also found a few tiny socks and mittens. Our youngest children are now 35.
I also have the problems caused by the fact that most of my dad's stuff came round here with him when I sold his house. The fishing tackle went to a charity that helps mentally handicapped and mentally ill take up fishing as therapy, so that solved that problem. Obviously I kept the 'heirloom' stuff: my great-grandad's tackle, all the press cuttings and cups, etc. No, the real problem was the DIY stuff. My dad has sticky fingers (literally nowadays, due to peripheral neuropathy and marmalade) and for 95 years he has apparently regarded the acquisition of building materials as an end in itself.
So today I started on the nails. These were in a series of boxes and buckets, and were taking up too much room. As well as dad's nails there are my nails. I admit that each time I've been to buy the timber for a project over the last 40 years I've bought a big bag of nails, having forgotten to check whether I already have some of the right size and type.
It turns out that we have a lot of nails between us, me and the old man. The smallest I found were strange little pins, no two exactly the same but all roughly 3/8" long. The largest were ten inches long with heads almost an inch across. There were copper nails (various lengths and heads) galvanised nails (ditto), roofing nails, brass tacks, nails for horseshoes, oval brads, panel pins ranging from 1/2" to 2", and a few large gutter spikes.
I spent hours sorting these nails. I suppose one day the as yet unborn son of one of my grandchildren will finally take the majority of them to the tip.
Tomorrow I start on a tea chest labelled 'nuts and bolts, misc'.
Bill