The Flight of a Sparrow

As, inevitably, I am nearer the end than the beginning of my span here, where I will be after I can only speculate. The Ven. Bede has words which may be comforting, or not.

“It seems to me that the life of man on earth is like the swift flight of a single sparrow through the banqueting hall where you are sitting at dinner on a winter’s day with your captains and counsellors. In the midst there is a comforting fire to warm the hall. Outside, the storms of winter rain and snow are raging. This sparrow flies swiftly in through one window of the hall and out through another. While he is inside, the bird is safe from the winter storms, but after a few moments of comfort, he vanishes from sight into the wintry world from which he came. So man appears on earth for a little while – but of what went before this life, or what follows, we know nothing.”

But, as so often, I digress. I find it rather satisfying to throw “stuff” out. A friend told me she had an adviser to reduce her more than adequate stock of clothes. I might say an enforcer. Another friend was told by his wife if he hadn’t worn it for a year it was being chucked. I am torn between chucking and keeping. I am glad I have parted with my magnificent collection of telephone directories. I am glad I have retained my almost complete set of OS maps of the British Isles.  Here are two obsolete items I have kept, not because they will ever “come in useful” again, but because one was given to me by a nun in 1972 and the other by a god-daughter slightly more recently.

I have two nieces who have diligently given me presents: gold handled nail scissors (sourced from Asprey), shoe bags, monogrammed coat hangers; items that are always useful and will never be obsolete. I must add that other presents are retained: a fountain pen from my brother, a brass fender from my sister and more.