There comes a time in everyone’s life where they have to face the facts.

There is just more Tupperware and other assorted containers in your kitchen cupboards that you know what to do with.

You could store a new thing every day until the end of time and there would still be at least one box left over. And chances are that wouldn’t even be a box that you’d bought yourself. It would be one you’d acquired from somewhere, its provenance lost in the mists of time.

For us, today was that day.

We have a lot. But not a lot of it is useful.

That’s the other thing. We’ve been hoarding every container we ever come across – biscuit tins, chocolate tubs, festive biscuit containers – because they’re too useful to throw away. But we’ve never used them. I do a fair amount of baking and almost everything I bake goes into one of three different containers. All these other super useful things have been living at the back of a cupboard, out of reach, sight and mind.

They were so far back that they could have been blocking off an entrance to Narnia. I wouldn’t have been surprised to move some of the older boxes out of the way and just find a desiccated Mr Tumnus, having hopped through to see us finding his way blocked by Tupperware. And, as he turned to leave again, he knocked some of the boxes and – as is their way – they fell and blocked his passage back to Narnia. And he just died, right there in the cupboard. Flat on his back, crosses for eyes, tongue lolling out of his mouth and his strangely furry legs stuck up in the air.


And I’d have put him in a box to preserve his remains. It’s what Aslan would want us to do.

We currently still have the same amount of Tupperware and assorted boxes. They are now just in a pile on a table (specially erected for just this occasion) in the kitchen. Taunting us. And, as is their way, piles of them occasionally just fall over for no reason.

Probably, I suspect, in the middle of the night. Just to add an extra brown-trouser element to proceedings.

Carole says I can be as ruthless as I want when it comes to throwing things away. She said that. And then I asked if I could throw away the tub which holds ancient birthday candles and she made a sad face and said no.

So there’s also that to contend with.

What’s worse is that I thought I had it all, and then Carole came home from work with various Tupperware items that she has had there. It’s probably not all of it, either. I bet you there’s at least one or two more boxes in her desk drawers, each with a piece of brown apple in them, or a small piece of unwanted something.

They’ll make it home eventually.

Probably just after we’ve sorted the rest of the stuff out, so we have to start all over again.