Am now onto the disposal of my old PC, TV, VCR and stereo. The VCR has gone to a lady on the local Freecycle list, though I can’t seem to give the portable colour TV away. Which is a shame as it works as perfectly as the day it was made – circa 1981. The analogue RF-only input can’t help in these days of SCART and digital compatibility. I’ve happily watched digital channels on the set via an RF convertor, but it’s one more gadget to hook up and find a power socket for, and perhaps that’s what puts people off.
Still, the council will take it away for free, along with everything else. The TV and stereo have been with me since my teens in Suffolk.
So nice to clear out all these big bulky things with their noisy cooling fans and cathode ray hums, and replace them with a single sleek and silent laptop that does everything.
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I should really say something kind about Music & Video Exchange, having singled them out earlier. It’s more the ordeal of standing at the counter to receive tooth-sucking judgement that puts me off doing much selling in person, but this is obviously something that all second-hand shops have to do, not just M&VE. At least M&VE take your unwanted piles off your hands. The used bookshops I’ve visited tend to hand back the books they won’t buy, so you still have to find a charity shop on the way home to get rid of the things.
Even some charity shops have refused my donations, saying they’re inundated or that they can’t sell my particular items. Though to be fair, perhaps I WAS rather asking for trouble when I took a copy of Selfish C—‘s vividly-labelled single ‘Britain Is S— / F— The Poor’ to a charity shop staffed by the primmest, frailest looking elderly ladies. On purpose. Only joking.
From my Inbox:
M&VE are not rip offs. They just know what things sell for. Which is how they’ve managed to stay around so long while others have gone bust. And if you take exchange (which I always do) then it’s a very fair price… I try and sell to the sweet smiley man in Berwick St… I recently turned about thirty CDs by rubbish indie bands into one of those amazing new Motown Complete singles collections that come packaged in a book. A luxury I could never have afforded and one that takes up a lot less space than thirty rubbish indie CDs. So I say hurrah for the most miserable record shops in Britain!
My favourite disposal outlet has to be the 24 Hour Oxfam Donation Banks, the ones that take clothes, books and CDs. I like to sneak up to them in the middle of the night with my carrier bags. Though last time I popped my unwanted items through the hatch circa 3AM, I could have sworn I heard something. Was it my imagination, or was the metal bank making scornful teeth-sucking noises…?
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Finding my energy levels are all over the place at present. I’ve been falling asleep at odd moments, drifting through the days. Clearing out the mountains of old paperwork has really become a life-scrutinising experience. This IS my life in paper form. Letters, flyers, clippings, postcards, documents. I’m trying to whittle it all down to just the most important examples. Going from keeping everything to keeping just enough to tell the tales. Just the one letter from someone, say, not dozens. Rules have to be applied. I take notes whenever I’m throwing out something that still demands a nod of permanence. A respectful last salute.
Most of all, I feel like a sensible descendent going through the possessions of a crazy uncle, who’s died and left me the boxes in his will. The clutter represents joy, pain, frustration, love, adventure; the usual. Yet my reaction today while going through it all is more the curiosity and fascination of a third party biographer.
Today it’s been chilly enough indoors for me to keep my long overcoat on while I’m sorting through the boxes on the floor. I must look like a character from Shooting The Past.
