I am a coward!

We have two lofts in our house. Both are relatively full. I am embarrassed to admit that they are mainly filled with ‘stuff’ belonging to me!

I inherited the hoarding gene from my mother. Try as I might, I cannot throw out clothes, shoes, bedding, curtains ……. the list is endless! I have never been into any of the lofts, until today. My husband has nagged me for years to sort out what needs to be kept and ‘do something’ with the rest. In my defence I did give a lot of my work cloths to my mother’s care home. They were going to sell them at their annual summer fair a few years ago. They were smart suits and jackets, many dating back to my years in South Africa. Most had padded shoulders and looked like they had come off the set of Dynasty!

Challenge number one was getting into the loft! My husband uses a step ladder then, with strong arms and legs, pulls himself up through the opening and sits down on the ledge before sliding back and standing up. My arms are not particularly strong. I do weight exercises but obviously not enough! I had tried before but had given up. Today I was not going to renege on my promise. I was going to get into the loft by hook or by crook!

I gingerly climbed the step ladder and stuck my head and shoulders through the gap. I turned around and put my hands onto the ledge and tried to push myself up. I looked and felt pathetic! There was no way that I could lift my body high enough to get inside. My husband found this amusing which didn’t help! I turned around carefully on the top step again and stood on the handle (not recommended)! Leaning forward I tried to push myself inside. This wasn’t going to work either! Eventually my husband grabbed me under my arms and yanked me up!

I was surprised at the size of the loft. The amount of bags, plastic tubs, suitcases and general paraphernalia long forgotten were neatly stacked on makeshift boards. A high chair used when my grandchildren were little, a travel cot, bedding, toys, all no longer required and could be moved on. And then there were the bags of clothes, jumpers, shoes and more shoes, boots swimming costumes, scarves, belts ……… I’m cringing as I write this!

I have another confession to make. This was the large loft running the length of the house, There is a smaller one above the sitting room downstairs. This has a rail filled with jackets, coats and evening gowns, all vacuum packed. It was supposed to be my seasonal storage cupboard where clothes were rotated, not stored indefinitely!

I opened a box and found warm jumpers that hadn’t been worn for a few years. There were several plastic containers marked boots and shoes. I also found boxes of small tissue packets, candle holders and matches in a bag marked ‘Father’s Funeral’! That was nine years ago. There was an unopened duvet bag, many sets of curtains and matching bedding. Sheets and towels which will come in handy at the end of the year. My son and his family are visiting from the States.

Half an our later I was ready to come down. I sat on the ledge above the stepladder. I tried to get my foot onto the handle. I could barely reach! I was petrified! There was no way that I could balance precariously on the handle without losing my balance! I’d knock over the ladder and fall down the flight of stairs! My husband was looking up at me, exasperated!

‘I showed you how to get down’, he said. ‘It’s easy! I’ll catch you if you fall!‘

There was no way that I was going to risk causing a potentially fatal accident! I could see two bodies, necks broken, lying in tangled heaps at the bottom of the stairs! It had been a long time since I felt so much panic! I genuinely could not contemplate getting down on my own and felt frozen to the ledge! I tried to curl my fingers around it’s rim but it was too wide. Once more I made an effort to ease myself down and touched the handle with my foot to check it’s stability. It moved slightly. Panic stricken I shot back on to the ledge.

‘You’ll have to come down,’ my husband stated the obvious! ‘Can’t stay up there all night! It’ll get cold!’ I could hear the frustration in his voice.

‘I’m stuck! I can’t do it!’ I was almost in tears! I felt like such an idiot but could not contemplate getting down the same way as my husband! ‘I’m really frightened,’ I added, pathetically. ‘I can’t get down!’

Eventually my husband joined me in the loft, held me tightly under my arms and I was able to reach the top step. I lurched forward, grabbing hold of the handle. Regaining my balance I climbed down, grateful that I was out of my prison and stating emphatically that I would never go up there again!

Until we can arrange a proper loft ladder, all my ‘stuff’ will remain untouched. That’s my husband’s challenge if he wants to get it emptied. I have faced up to the fact that I really don’t like heights and I am a coward! I’ll live with that! 👠