16-32-64 twenty-six

I'm doing paperwork today, amongst other sorting and having lunch with my sister during her bimonthly London visit - lovely grilled king prawns from Ask were enjoyed by all.

You know that awkward feeling you get when you take down birthday cards a week later, feeling a bit guilty about throwing them away? Well it's worse when it's "sorry you're sick" cards. Eighteen-month-old cards that couldn't even say "get well soon" on them because my diagnosis was terminal. I know they weren't easy to buy, not easy to write (most were cat cards; 'blank for your message' types - people know me well enough) and it all adds up to my not thinking about it yet and just stashing them.

Today I decided to go through them and pair (pare? I think pare) down what I want to keep. I can be brutal with this kind of thing - I'm no hoarder - but it was hard. I've kept anything particularly moving (to me, not in the traditional sense), and went through the rest of my correspondence. All letters and postcards I've received at random have been kept - mostly just un-cancery stuff actually. I love getting random postcards and letters and intend to do more sending.

That should be easy, as I've sorted all my unwritten cards and postcards as well - I admit I may have a bit of a Paperchase problem. I'm known for buying cards long before a birthday is due (hate me if you must - I've started Xmas shopping) and forgetting them when the time comes. Or just buying cards I fall in love with. I counted 21 cards and even more postcards totally untouched. That's got to count as at least a £60 investment, surely?

The whole thing made me smile as it reminded me of my ex, who opened his birthday cards over the bin every year (only opened in case there was a cheque) and unceremoniously dropped each one with a snort. Sweet guy, unapologetic about some of his... Idiosyncrasies.

Handwritten letters, thinking of the ex, finding a TV show I think is based on a book from my teens - let's call me 16 today.