Other people run marathons for charity. I walk for days and miles between the charity shops of London donating items. I can’t face going back to the same Oxfams again and again, so it means a tour of London’s many charity shops. It’s a marathon.
I suspect I’m losing out on a lot of potential pocket money selling online or in used goods shops. But I really feel I’ve made all the trips to the Post Office and Music & Video Exchange that I can bear for one lifetime. Well all right, for the time being.
In fact, I’d happily pay NOT to suffer the belittling process at second-hand shops where the assistant sifts through the pile, makes all kinds of sneering noises under his breath, until he offers you barely a tenth of what you were hoping for. Or worse, gives you back your pile.
All I really wanted to do was get rid of the things, not make money. So, I’ll just get rid of the things. They must surely raise something. The complete Beyond The Fringe on triple CD. All the Bill Hicks albums. All the Pet Shop Boys albums with the second discs and booklets. And lots more like that. Many of which are in near-mint condition.
When I’m crouched on my hands and knees at 3 AM, sifting through a endless pile of possessions, trying to decide what might sell, and what won’t, and what to keep, and what to throw away, and getting upset rather than enjoying the art of trading, I know that the marketplace gene just isn’t in my DNA. If I was a trader in a former life, I’d be one of those that gets really annoyed whenever any customer comes into the shop. At all. No, it’s not for me.
And I still haven’t even started on the paperwork. Or the DVDs. So I need to get these things out of my home at once.
But at least the books have been pruned down so much that I now have gaping spaces in the bookcase. I should probably stop there. The audio cassettes have all gone, except for my most recent demos; I’m consulting those when writing new songs.
The videos have gone, too. Didn’t have as many as I thought. The width of VHS spines can be really quite deceptive.
I must keep some CDs, but how many? How few? Books do furnish a room, but CDs do become A CD Collection. And I’m not sure if I want a collection. Just the ones I’m listening to.
How many Fall albums are you meant to own? How many Stereolab albums? I have some friends who’ll say ‘all of them, of course!’ That’s about fifty CDs for a start.
It’s more practical to be a fan of artists who aren’t so prolific. God bless them, for they save us our holy shelf space:
‘I’m a massive fan of Mary Margaret O’Hara. I’ve got all her album.’
Never ask the prolific artists themselves. They will say ‘Just get the latest album – it’s my best yet.’ And they will be wrong. Until they see sense, like Prince. Alan Partridge was right – sometimes you only ever really want The Best Of The Beatles.
Thoughts of Edwyn Collins presenting the TV nostalgia show, ‘I Love 1995’:
‘Hi! I’m Edwyn ‘A Girl Like You’ Collins.’
He actually said that, too.
I think of Joseph Heller and a rude interviewer, and the great retort:
Interviewer: It must be hard having to promote your latest novel. Let’s face it, you haven’t written anything as good as Catch 22, have you?
Heller: No… But then neither has anyone else.
