I don't know what to do for the best...

do I part with all the treasures acquired over the many and various chapters of my life?

At this point I ought to remind you that I DON'T DO SHARING.  I squirrel, I hoard, I fondle, I imbibe the fusty scent of old artifacts and fabric.  I pour over photo's of yore with a teary eye, I rearrange things to make my comfort zone more comfy.  Time slips by; where did the day go?  Filled with that guilty, I've been very naughty, lush feeling, I carefully stash my secrets back, being careful to look over my shoulder in case any one is peeping.

With the Kitsch and Stitch extravaganza fast approaching I really must get to grips.

The sack barrow I bought on ebay years ago, (when I was wanting hessian fabric?) looking for all the world like it carted off the body from the Orient Express!  Is that a contender?  Trouble is, Hubs had enough trouble getting it from some far-flung part of the UK.  The weight my dear you wouldn't believe!  And that's just the wheels.

The endless eiderdowns (before you get too excited) they're manky.  We don't need loft insulation, we just roll out the eiders, if it's good enough for ducks...

Early Pyrex - the next big thing.  

Remind me one day to tell you a funny story re. this most humble of dishes.  

The ingredients are:- a Royal house, a very grand butler and a very jaunty little glass dish with absolutely no ideas above its station.

In the Winter room (my snug) I need a shoe horn to navigate my way to the window; the boxes await with the demeanor of prisoners on death row.  
'Will it be me?' they quakingly quiver.  
'She's obviously feeling better, she has that wicked gleam in her eye - 

Noooo!'