Day 4: I Find Treasure In The Cellar

My flat looks tidy, until you open a cupboard. Then things fall on your head. I am used to that sort of thing though because when I was 5 (or thereabouts), the cover of the gas meter - conveniently situated over my bed - fell off in the night and on to me. No harm done. (I think it was the gas meter, but I'm not sure it matters.) Then, many years later - somewhere between the age of 8 and 12 - I opened a kitchen cupboard door in Paris and the whole cupboard fell on my head. Still no harm done. I think.

The cellar was a place of Darkness. Knee-deep in unnamed stuff, all of it covered in a light mould, most of it un-usable. Not that it mattered, because I didn't know what was in there. It just weighed heavy on my heart.

The Man On The Motorcycle came from Oxford. We ate scrambled eggs and drank coffee. Then we empied the cellar. Emptied it. All of it. On the floor of my flat. I threw things away. Full bin bags were thrown away without being opened. By 11.30, there were 35 bin bags, an old hoover, an old telly, 5 picture frames, 1.23m empty boxes and a cake in the street outside my flat. I phoned Lambeth Council. "Someone has left HUNDREDS of BAGS on the STREET outside my flat and I KNOW how keen you are to MAKE SURE that the STREETS that are NOW EMPTY due to your EXCELLENT PARKING RESTRICTIONS are kept clear. Thought you should know. Oh. You're sending a big truck to take it away within 2 hours? How wonderful. Thank you."

I have known the Man on the Motorcyle for 25 years, so it was good it was him. We found pictures of me aged 15, and pictures of me aged 27, with a quiff. I read bits of letters. He pretended to be interested. We went to B&Q and bought shelving and masks for the dust and rubble bags. I put 5 more bin bags in the street. We drank tea. I found treasure:

- a football signed by Michael Owen
- 3.23m photographs
- letters from people who are dead
- wedding invitations from people who are divorced
- love letters from people who are now friends
- a tambourine
- a fish kettle big enough to cook a shark the size of the Moon
- a saucepan big enough to cook Michael Winner in
- pictures of me and people I was happy with once, which reminded me to pay attention now
- a bra
- 45 velvet scarves.

The cellar is now clean. Things are in boxes, on shelves. The lawnmower has a home, as do the three deckchairs. I know where my A-level results are, and where to go if I need a hammer at short notice. Clearing out the cellar was more satisfying than a month of work. And now I've got more cupboards to excavate, a garden to butcher, and walls to paint. All of this means I cannot possibly work for at least another month.