The recent Moth War has brought to light some items hidden at the back of the closet. It's always unsettling to go delving deeply into closets, cupboards, or wardrobes (look what happened to Edmund, Lucy, and the rest). In my case, it's brought on a certain recklessness.
Sitting beside the bins is the suitcase that I brought to the UK in September 1971. Its catches are rusted and the pale-blue, quilted insides are littered with moth detritus, thanks to it having been home for the past 10 or more years to some memorable garments, including two voluminous wool skirts that I loved to wear in the 90s and couldn't bear to throw out. (They will undergo washing, and the freezer treatment, as soon as possible - meanwhile they are sealed up in plastic bags. Though having written that, I do wonder why I still want to keep them ... simply because it's so hard to bin fabric that might "be useful" somehow, somewhen?)
Tap shoes, goodbye - maybe someone else will find you in the charity shop and be inspired to give tap dancing a go. I certainly enjoyed my brief skirmish, and am still thinking about trying again, to see if remembering the sequences gets any easier, if the body can get better at making the moves.
Reality bites in the fabric department too, every now and then - there simply isn't time to use it all! One box from the closet revealed the makings of a "lilac" quilt - dresses gathered from jumble sales in the 80s, some fabric lengths -- they've just been put on freecycle.
Having suffered from recklessness (in the foot department), I'm trying to use "creative recklessness" to clear out what's of no immediate use to me. "One door closes and another opens."
On the downside - also found were two shoeboxes full of museum postcards, carefully filed by subject. Seeing that, I simply put the lids back on and put them back. Something for a rainy day. Or to be rediscovered during a future Moth War.