Opinion: Where the junk gets imprisoned for life

Louise Graydon despairs of the junk in 'the Citadel'

Louise Graydon despairs of the junk in 'the Citadel'

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We all know that littering and fly tipping has reached epidemic proportions, but there is hope.

There is a place where unwanted junk is stored, it’s at the top of my house and it’s called The Citadel.

This is where my other half resides tinkering away with old radios, bits of wire, copper pipes and lumps of brass. He invents things, destroys things, and mends things.

Once the junk has arrived in The Citadel it’s imprisoned for life.

“Can you give me a hand?” he said one day.

“I need things moving.”

As I climbed the stairs to The Citadel my heart sank.

From floor to ceiling and everywhere you looked, there were piles of old radios, clocks, tools that even B & Q would be envious of, electronic components, lamps, and at least a dozen boxes of stethoscopes – stethoscopes?

“I found them dumped beside the road, think a medical rep was having a bad day.”

They’ve since been released and sent to charity.

Anyway you get the picture. Among the chaos was a narrow pathway leading to aburied work bench and desk. I did recall there was a computer somewhere but I neverspotted it.

Beneath the bench and desk more stuff. I did once ask him what all this ‘Stuff’was for.

“For! It’s not for anything, it’s just stuff,” came the retort.

“Y’see I need all that stuff out and sorted,”he seated himself into his chair like the Great Buddha, “And you know I can’t do it,” he added.

I knew what he meant, several years ago he had double knee replacements and now cannot kneel or get down low. He started rubbing his knees as if to emphasise the point. Ah! So that was it.

He wanted me to crawl underneath the bench and sort the ‘stuff.’ I reminded him that I was also an Ancient Briton, I know this because I have a pension and a bus pass.

The Great Buddha eyed me sympathetically.

“If you hand me the items I’ll sort them into two piles, a ‘to keep’ pile and a ‘throw out’pile.”

I was shocked at this statement, he had uttered the words ‘throw out’ the two words I had never heard in his vocabulary before.

Anyway, for several hours buried beneath the junk I handed the Great Buddha, resistors, diodes, capacitors, bits of wire, tools, pressure gauges, voltmeters, dozens of old phones, calculators and so on.

Every item no matter how small was inspected thoroughly and only then was it placed on the appropriate pile. After what seemed like a lifetime and with my back aching, solder in my hair, fluff and dust up my nose, I quit, and crawled out from the burrow.

The Great Buddha looked pleased nestled between his two piles.

I’ll let you draw your own conclusion as to which one was the biggest.