The fine art of hoarding

Are all writers hoarders?

This one is. Ideas, useful (or useless) information. Scraps that might lead to a book. Usually in paper form. Which means the house is full of notes, post-its, cuttings from magazines - or the whole magazine - maps, pictures, leaflets, catalogues, postcards, programmes ... And don't get me started on the recipes torn out of magazines. They have nothing to do with the writing, or not usually, just that I like to cook - not that I often try them out. They're just there - hoarded.

A writer's hoard 

I think hoarding may also be hereditary, because both my parents were hoarders, in their respective fields - which means, unfortunately, that I have inherited both their habits and their hoards.

Mum was a dressmaker, so she stashed fabric - usually bought in sales. During the war she had enough stored away to clothe my grandmother and my aunt, as well as herself, for the duration. I have picked up the habit and now have my store and hers. Including two potential winter coats. The store also extends to zips and buttons  - no outworn garment was ever allowed to get away with those in place - recycling, before it was fashionable. I also have knitting wool - going to have to learn to knit at some stage, and dress patterns. Not always with all the pieces. 

Dad was a builder - same applies. Nuts and bolts, screws and nails, locks and keys, wall and floor tiles, pieces of wood ... I could go on. If anything fell apart, he usually had something that would fix it. I don't have quite so much in that line, but some. I do have a garden drawer though - gloves, secateurs, string, lots of string, partly used seed packets, labels ... 

It might come in useful one day - the story of a hoarder's life.

And one day that scrap of paper might turn into a book ...