Divorced!

What a strange day. I got divorced! This is how it went:

At 7.30 the alarm chirruped and I sprang from my comfy bed, pulled on a warm top (it's pissed with rain here and been 15 degrees for five days now) and scuttled downstairs in a state of high excitement. I lit the fire in the sitting room by way of an incendiary-type celebration, and got hot Javan coffee on the go.

Consulting with my higher-self takes a lot of concentration - it's an art form I learned from a strikingly gorgeous native American Indian who wrestled alligators for a living, during a visit to America when I was 18. My higher-self gave good guidance and I cheerfully flung several more pictures and a mouldy Keffiyeh which my son bravely sported during a couple of school nativities, onto the impressive pile of dead-marriage debris in the dining room.

I banged shut the door and drank coffee spiked with palm sugar and puffed on a couple of Players while I waited for the doorbell.

It trilled. On the doorstep, two diminutive blokes. One was built like a brick shithouse no more than five feet tall, and his companion was roughly twelve. "He's stronger than he looks" said the shithouse. I know these types having moved house a zillion times. I have carted a piano around for most of these moves. Don't do it unless you CANNOT live without a piano: it adds pounds to a removal bill as it requires three beefcakes to shift it. Ridiculous that I have stubbornly kept hold of my standard dull upright as I can only play a few bits of Bach and the theme tune from Captain Pugwash when I've had a few. I CANNOT live without it though.

Anyway, in they came and surveyed what wares I had to flog. They were mightily unimpressed with most of it though shithouse did use velvet descriptions for the old dresser which he said was glazed with a mahogany veneer, and the linen press which he praised. Because it has a key. Which is good news apparently.

I offered them some of my Javan coffee before they set about straining to 'uplift' (to use a rather brilliant term used by my deceased brother-in-law when he threatened to come and seize the family 'heirlooms' post the sudden departure of my whoring ex husband) my objets...but they declined.

So here is what I have today divorced myself from:

17 pictures including a framed piece of silk or something that belonged to my former husband - possibly removed from the lithe thighs of an Asian Princess. No idea. It's gone anyway.

An antique linen press. One of the 'heirlooms.' Ah well. Tons of similar on Ebay.

An antique glazed mahogany dresser. Another 'heirloom.' Rather a shame as I kept all our batteries in the top drawer and batteries are a bloody nuisance to find if you don't have a set place for the buggers.

Two vintage deckchairs. A project interrupted by the small matter of my son's diagnosis of leukaemia.

A splendid dressing table - painted in Paris Grey and Annie-Sloan waxed, a project completed during my son's leukaemia and more interesting to tackle than the deckchairs.

A lush sideboard with claw and ball feet and all keys. Painted, waxed and just generally lovely. But I bought it from the local paper for 40 quid to practise all the painting and waxing on - so not too big a loss.

A lovely vintage desk, sanded, painted in teal, with brass knobs and original slide-tray. But I got it from the tip for 20 quid so though it was fabulous I haven't lost a fortune.

Two carver chairs with velvet covers. I had difficulty deciding whether or not to part with these, as they came from my dead father-in-law's flat in Bristol. But since my ex wasn't much interested in his own son, let alone a couple of chairs that his dad owned, I thought they ought to go. So go they did.

Three Indian bongo drums that I bought at an Eton school fair years ago. I have hung on to the African spears.

A door planer.

A big old steamer trunk.

A vintage fishing net.

A steam-punk era spirit optic which I used often in my London days.

Loads of other stuff. Lots of it. A dusty hinterland of dead-marriage items that have cluttered my home, my house and my heart for nearly ten years. My real divorce came through in November 2008 but gave me no sense of freedom as I was very busy with our baby and trying to sort out the awful debts he left behind.

Today's divorce was much better. It was fun and peaceful. I gave the boys a tip and thanked them for their hard work. It will have meant nothing to them - it must be like clearing the dishes after a messy farewell party.

I did a dance when they had gone. A happy dance.