Apart from carting drawers and odds and sods to another room, the room is almost ready for the decorator to wreak havoc with.
A small pile of books is bagged up for the charity shop. There might be more on the reverse sort out. In the bag there are some books that are dated fifteen years ago. They might be interesting for someone who wants to make comparisons with then and now.
I found a set of regional factory shop books. I wonder how many of the factories, let alone the shops, still exist. Those books could make a useful social/commercial statement of our times, over the last two decades, if anyone is interested in researching those factories and sales shops regions.
There were some books I didn’t even know I owned. To be more correct, I’d filed them away on the bookshelf to be forgotten. They are pristine. This batch is mostly cookery books or food type books.
Books, interesting ones I had genuinely forgotten about will now be read. There is the set of modern language Shakespearian works I bought hubby, Vera Brittan’s Testament of Youth in an original hard back (careful handling only), John Mortimer in various guises, also a book of ethics I should at least glance at. Time is what I need and time is what I shall have to make.
In-between the books were little personal family treasure troves, so tempting to look through, to lose present time in, to rejoin the times they came from.