UNLESS you're one of those people who is super organised, the kind of person that starts their Christmas shopping in the January sales and has it all wrapped by October 1, chances are you have a 'drawer of doom'.

It is of course the kitchen drawer filled with the flotsam and jetsam of life - so full, in fact, that it no longer closes properly and you're pretty sure that's because there's an old peg bag wedged at the back of it.

It's the drawer that contains two or three rolls of sticky tape, several batteries, some loose post-it notes, a grubby ball of string, an old tape measure, a postcard someone sent you three years ago, a back scratcher, a book of stamps, a spaghetti-measuring spoon, a packet of joss sticks and keys to nowhere.

Try as I might to keep my kitchen tidy and organised, I inevitably end up with a drawer of doom where I keep things I neither need nor want, but for some reason cling onto.

It's the drawer I occasionally tell myself I will get around to clearing out - soon. And in the meantime I continue to fill it with yet more sticky tape, curled-up post-it notes, novelty key rings, tangled paper clips, National Trust leaflets and pens that no longer work. Last time I glanced in the drawer, I spotted a thimble. I can't remember ever using a thimble so I've no idea how one ended up in there.

The trick is not to allow the cluttered drawer to overspill. Once the clutter escapes from the drawer it ends up like The Magic Porridge Pot, spewing out uncontrollably - and before you know it you're climbing over floor-to-ceiling piles of cardboard boxes to reach your front door.

Facing the prospect of my second house move in less than a year, I know I am going to have to tackle the kitchen drawer at some point soon. Then there's all the other stuff that needs to be cleared out. I have bags and boxes full of CDs, DVDs and books that I still haven't unpacked since the last time I moved, several months ago. Making a feeble attempt to look through them the other day, I wondered why on earth I have so much...stuff.

Do I even watch these DVDs? Hardly ever. Do I listen to my CDs? Sometimes in the car, but not often. While there are some books I cherish, and would never part with, there are plenty that I'll probably never read, or re-read, so what's the point of hanging onto them?

Why do I insist on keeping my old dolls' house? All its furniture is kept in a box, and hasn't seen the light of day for four decades, but I loved it so much as a child that I can't bear to part with it. Same goes for the knitted monkey I've had forever.

And how come I have so many framed prints? Most of them are propped against the radiator in a back bedroom and may never actually hang on the wall. Then there are the nick-nacks; the trinkets, ornaments and souvenirs I've collected over the years. Some are treasured gifts from friends and family, some I brought back from travels. Each chapters of my life, chucking them out would be unthinkable.

Having a clear-out can lead you to reflect on life. When we finally felt ready to go through my parents' things, after they died, it felt intrusive. I thought of them starting out together, moving into their first house, filling their shelves with books and records over the years. Then, one day, their grown-up children are sorting through it all, filling boxes with items they've decided to part with. "We can't keep everything," I kept repeating.

But some things we did keep, and they are now part of our own homes. The flotsam and jetsam of a life before us, washed up in the ebb and flow of our time together.

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