Boxed Up Blues

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A biscuit tin that belonged to my Gran

Endsleigh got in touch, and offered me a John Lewis Christmas hamper to try and answer the question what objects are most important to you?

Mr G has an obsession right now with boxing everything up. Each morning at the door he produces a new freshly empted storage box and proceeds to fill it with objects we won’t have much call for on the 20 minute school run.

We turned up at the soft play centre last week, him dragging his Bob the Builder suitcase on wheels which contained: a guitar, a light sabre, four meerkats, ear defenders and a water pistol.

‘Is he trying to tell you something?’ said my friend.

‘He’s ready to move!’ joked another.

‘Aha’, I thought, ‘so that’s what this is all about’.

Miss L inherited her magpie gene from me, every surface in her room is coated in shiny treasures. Last week she was reduced to tears over being asked to tidy her room. After much prying and prising it seemed the issue was more to do with wanting to be able to see all of her treasures so they couldn’t be moved. So we sat and talked about moving house and how her stuff would make it from a to b safely.  We found an old shoe box, her ‘safe box’, not one for the van, but one she could take in the car with her, and she started packing her most valuable treasures in it.

‘Aha’, I thought, ‘so that’s what all this is all about’.

And I thought about being 8 months pregnant with her, about to climb into our T-bar-roofed sports car as we left our London life behind for Nottingham. I remember being utterly terrified that some removal firm had driven off just seconds before, with all of our possessions, convinced that we would never see them again.

They made it, although they left a few essential sections of an Ikea bookcase behind, broke my favourite lamp and damaged the Lloyd Loom chair that I inherited from my Gran. They never replied when I asked about claiming on their insurance.

‘Aha’ I thought, ‘so that’s what all this is all about’.

I remember lying awake in our new home thinking we’re here, with all our worldly possessions, in the gun crime capital of the UK (with hindsight, media induced nonsense), and none of it is insured yet. So mental note to self, to be a proper grown up and while you’re busy ensuring the kids are all right, don’t forget to actually re-insure everything. Especially given we’ve gained quite a lot of extra stuff since we packed up that two bedroom flat in London, including two children and all their precious treasures.

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