Last week my blog was about how clutter seems to hover around me. I accumulate it daily without effort, it’s an unwanted skill I have acquired over the years. I am not a hoarder, that would be a compulsive condition I might be able to get medical help for —— Obsessive Accumulating Disorder (OAD), more commonly known as “Pig Pen’s disease” . Nor am I a collector, there might be some merit in that, who knows I could be on Antiques Roadshow in the years ahead. But, my stuffs not valuable it is just stuff.
So now we come to my rugby boots.
Not too many Rugby players, at 69 years old, still have their boots clean – well, almost clean – and ready to go, but I do. Just in case, after my glittering career in Syston Thirds, I get a last minute call from Wales to play in the Autumn Internationals, or maybe I could just sit on the bench at the Millennium Stadium. I am sure I saw a scout on the touchline 30 years ago at Syston and surely he must have seen me?
Therein lies my whole cluttering problem. Letting go of my memories and wistful unfulfilled dreams is difficult. I have kept those boots for years, first in my wardrobe and then for the last 20 years in my shed. Ready to go on a Saturday as soon as the phone rings, or perhaps these days it will be a text message — oops— maybe that’s why I missed it?
Instead of cluttering up my shed, if only I had been more realistic all along I should have thrown those boots away years ago.
It’s obvious I would have to buy new brightly coloured boots if the call to represent my country finally comes.