More decluttering archaeology. This was my last proper Christmas present from my parents ie. I was sixteen and so couldn’t expect too much the next year because I’d not be considered a child anymore. I remember my mum letting me choose it in the shop. It was between this red thing and a plainer one. Mum asked the salesman which was better. He said the plain one…but I insisted on the red one because I thought it looked so stylish. Mum commented to the salesman that young 'uns often care more about how something looks than how suitable it is. He agreed. So I got the cheaper, less good but snazzier one. When I excavated this this morning I was tempted to keep it for sentimental reasons (the musical memories as well as because it marked the end of innocence), but no, I’m freeing myself of stuff. Perhaps if it had been much smaller…
