It would appear that there’s a TARDIS at the top of the house.
Not so much the time and space travelling capabilities, but more the massive amount of space afforded by a seemingly small object.
Basically our attic is insanely full of stuff which we have started sorting out today. And by sorting out I mean removing from the house and depositing in a skip at the tip.
We’ve set ourselves a little target to go to the tip every day this week, as Carole’s off work and judging by this morning’s efforts it would appear that it isn’t going to be that hard to come up with stuff to take.
What adds to the fun of it all, though, is that the access hatch is in the back bedroom – you know, the one where we’ve decorated and you’re not allowed anywhere near the walls. The hatch is in the top of a cupboard because, you know, why the hell not and it’s a twat to get in and out of. I assume. It’s beyond my scope as a gymnast anyway so we have to send Carole up there like a Victorian child sweeping a chimney.
And then she starts throwing things through the hatch. Which is all well and good but when they ricochet out of the cupboard top like some kind of unpredictable missile heading towards the walls which we must never ever scrape then it’s a bloody scary thing. Not least because I certainly was not expecting to be attacked by an old cork noticeboard when I got up this morning!
Tomorrow, I think, we’re tackling a “piece” of carpet which is up there as that will give Carole a decent bit of space to work in.
Which makes me wonder how big this piece is. She’s already planning on taking a knife with her in case it gives her any trouble.
The mind boggles how it got up there in the first place…