Sorting and Shedding

 I have been working my way through children's games that I removed from one particular cupboard at our recently vacated home. This is an area that I've attacked a couple of times already in retirement, donating unused toys and other paraphernalia to charity shops. There remained, however, a mixture of well used board games, some stemming from my own childhood but also enjoyed by the Eldest and Youngest, as well too as their collection of game-consoles and the games that they loved to play on them.

There will no longer be a place for most of them in our home when we return. Was it even rational to feel attachment to these games, no matter how long we've had them as a family? Those made in the 1960's were hardly vintage boxed originals from the 1930's, but could I let them go after so long? Pragmatism crept in when I lifted the Monopoly box and it almost disintegrated in my hands. The contents looked sad and crumbling. In Cluedo the Detectives' Notes had been filled in 3 or 4 times and even the alleged murder weapons no longer looked fit for purpose. I comforted myself with the thought that the boxes and most of their contents had more than served their purpose and that saving them to decay further was not an option when clearly nobody (least of all the next generation) would ever want to touch them. They were capable of recycling, so, sentimentality aside, I almost wore rubber gloves to dispose of them, as I ripped and jettisoned the bits into the receptacle for council collection!

The games consoles and the games for them posed a bigger problem. Unwanted by charity shops and destined for landfill, they consumed my eco-conscience with guilt. A little research, however, revealed that there is actually a market for these things and a branch of a national exchange shop even exists on our local high street. I called in today and was absolutely amazed. It turns out that products from 20 or so years ago are considered retro and are currently in great demand, attracting, in the case of the consoles, more than their original cost if in perfect condition. Ours weren't, but I was still amazed at the prices offered, when all I really wanted to do was try to avoid adding to the world's rubbish.

So there we are, another lesson learnt about myself in retirement. Letting go is never easy, but removing everything  and then viewing the individual items dispassionately brings a sense of perspective that simply tidying a cupboard never does. Moreover if I can avoid throwing items into general waste, knowing that they will be reprocessed in some way or resold, then it seems that I can relinquish them after all. Liberty is surely a step closer as divestment continues.