Susan Stephens' Writing Diary

I'm off to the sale room today.

Oh, good, you say, that must mean she's getting rid of some more clutter, and moving on her mother's things at last... Not exactly. I'm collecting them, and bringing them home.

I telephoned the charity shop, but I was too late. I found the lid to a soup tureen here, and had the unhappy job of wrapping it in newspaper until it had no shape and I could pretend I didn't know what it was before I laid it carefully on top of the rubbish for the dustbin men.
I haven't slept properly since.

I also had the humbling task of having to ask a friend if I could have my mother's coffee cups and saucers back.
Fortunately, she understood.

I can't do it. I don't think I'll ever be able to do it.
And it isn't just my mother's things- people say to me- 'We just don't have room for it, and we can't bear to give it away... And we know you'll look after it-'
And I will.

I'm a Keeper. That's what I have to do. Some things are just meant to be.

Wish me luck at the sale room- And keep you fingers crossed that I don't buy anything...

Your friend
Susan