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No internet! I tried everything for nearly two hours but nothing worked. Meanwhile, I had lit the stove and had breakfast. Turned everything off and hobbled off down the drive on my morning walk. It took a while before my back stopped hurting. I had to keep retreating to the back of the verge to avoid tire spray. Came back, switched everything back on and it connected. There is no obvious explanation. The [fibre] landline telephone was working normally throughout.
The lounge floor is still littered with empty banana boxes and her "stuff." Repack it carefully but without the crumpled newspaper wrapping? Makes sense. Nothing else does. I really shouldn't attack new storage areas without clearing up the last lot. Where do I store these repacked boxes?
There is still the decades old paint in the upper kitchen cupboard. This needs to go to a recycling yard with toxic waste facilities. I still haven't reached the lower cupboard yet. With its door held shut by more cupboards for 25 years. What a strange, voyage of discovery. All within the few square yards/metres/feet of where I have ben living for all these years.
I am beginning to think I was a wimp for not standing up to her. Though it was a mutual agreement that I didn't touch her things. Nor her garden. In exchange she let me have considerable other freedoms. The outlandish, outdoor building projects. The sheds crammed with "stuff." The oversized Hifi speakers and my untidy, computer niche in the dormer.
I also had the raised area behind the TV for indoor storage. About 4x3 meters but limited by being under the 45° sloping ceiling. It was all hidden by a smart, dark red curtain. So it looked the part, was invisible and [typically] largely inaccessible. Except from one end. The open stairwell, in front, made access from the front very difficult. One's nose was soon at floor level because of the steep [55°] stairs.
Then there were all my bookcases. Scattered throughout the house. Largely ignored from one decade to the next. So I really can't judge her any more harshly than myself. It was a satisfactory balance we developed over our time here. Which worked well for us most of the time. There were so few visitors that it allowed a "relaxed furnishing style." One which included her storage boxes, ironwork, pots and plants. The sweep was the only regular visitor and he only came inside once a year.
The peculiar thing is that I badly feel the need to "interview" my wife now. Discuss all the things which went unsaid. She has been suddenly removed from the familiar picture. So I can't ask Her about any of this. Should I torture myself so with all of this guilt? For all the things I should have done but didn't? I assume this is a commonplace feeling for the recently bereaved.
I have had a new idea: I could get rid of my [now pointless] boxes of LPs and other detritus from the TV stage. Then I could store all of her "stuff" in the area behind the TV. Then it needn't be disturbed again. Unless I want to sell something. I have always had plans for a stud wall. Brought to the front of this "stage." Which lies beyond the open stairwell. Yes, we watched TV on the upstairs landing for 25 years. Viewing over an open stairwell! Even with the banister rail in front of our chairs we could see the whole screen. It worked fine for us.
The TV could be hung on this new wall. Leaving the [prismatic] area behind it much larger, much higher and deeper. It would actually be possible to stand up behind the new wall. Shelves could be arranged at different heights in this wall to tastefully display items of her Swedish Art glass.
She would never hear of my building a wall there. Because of the disruption and [potential] mess. I can mitre and cut all the timber to size out in my workshop. Then assemble it in place. The huge storage volume involved would be enough to "lose" everything of hers out of sight. Leaving the rest of the house completely free of clutter.
No more pressure to try and sell anything off or stack it in boxes in odd corners. Or just dump it at the the charity shops. It would need disciplined storage with boxes clearly marked as to contents. The clear tubs I had used for her clothes make much better sense in this context. Just the sort of project which will keep my mind occupied.
I only cried once on my walk. The emptiness is so overwhelming when familiar habits are denied to me. Calling: "It's only me" up the stairs on my return. Where I could see her sitting on her elm chair on the landing. Watching gardening videos on YouTube on the big TV. No more slide shows of the new day's photos. No more sharing any changes in the neighbourhood. Or having spotted an interesting bird or wild animal on my walk.
That said, I am already rearranging "Her" kitchen working surface. It no longer makes any sense in the context of vastly increased floor space available. Previously cluttered [storage] furniture surfaces [behind us for so long] have now been completely removed.
I have been using a picnic table for storing the toaster. Bringing it over to power sockets on the work top only when needed. The toaster can easily live on the [now cleared] worktop. With the kettle in front of it. The cutlery can live in its drawer. With only a few teaspoons standing up in a mug. The sheer number of knives and forks in the cutlery drawer makes no sense. Perhaps I should have only two of each in mugs on the working surface. Then they get rotated through the washing up. Sorry, dear, but it has to be done.
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12.10 I have just completed the full demolition of the mysterious, corner cupboard in the kitchen. First the decades old, British paint tins were removed from the top shelf. Then the storage boxes in front of the door. Where I found lots of vintage door hinges and other paraphernalia. There were also enough rubber gloves for a hospital. Plus countless rolls of cling film, polythene bin bags, etc. There were several unused dustpan and brush sets. Still in their polythene packing. The list is endless.
Then onto the magical door. The large key had been left conveniently nearby. The contents of the closed cupboard amounted to a small chest of drawers on the floor. Which had been reduced almost to sawdust by woodworm. On which stood two spotless, Vax, wet and dry, vacuum cleaners. Complete with all accessories. A full set of accessory brushes hung nearby on the wall in a pocketed cloth dispenser.
The demolition was noisy and fun but raised some issues. Lots of mouse shits and a dead corpse dessicated by time. We had rid the house of mice very early on. This one must have been trapped in there. I shone a torch into every corner but found no means of entry or escape. Perhaps it was inside one of the vacuum cleaners when we bought them at flea markets?
Now I have painted myself into that same corner. I had fitted vertical, vintage profiled boarding on all the kitchen walls about twenty years ago. This boarding is trapped behind the furniture. With lots of glass on display shelves. There was also lots of woodworm dust visible along the now exposed edges of the boards. All the glass items will have to taken down, boxed and removed. Then the furniture pulled out and all the boards taken down. Lots more work than a simple demolition job. Grr!
14.15. I have just returned from a 20 mile/32km trip to drop off my wife's decades old paint collection. None of the local recycling yards have a "hazardous chemicals" facility. I got rid of the worm eaten chest and the demolition timber while I was there. The trip was well worthwhile. You would not believe how long I have waited to be rid of that paint!
15.30 I removed all the glassware from the cupboards over the fridge. Then the cupboards. The fridge was moved out of its former alcove beside the mysterious cupboard. [Now finally absent!] The boards came off the wall easily enough. I had only used panel pins. Followed by the horizontal fixing battens. [Wall screws] Finally, I vacuumed off all the cobwebs. Now I need a short rest!
15.45 I just had a flash of inspiration. Why don't I start a new, illustrated blog? To celebrate my late wife's amazing and gorgeous glassware collection. I'd need to arrange a proper set up. To backlight the glass items individually. Possibly set against a dark background for improved contrast and sparkle. Arrange them singly for quality photography and consistency. It might even get some responses from collectors. Such as the designer and maker of individual pieces. Then it could eventually become an online resource for those interested in the subject.
There may be those of you who have wondered at the unnecessary detail and volume of my blog entries. They will have missed the desperate need for me to keep busy. If I stop I risk falling into torpor and depression. I have always used my blog[s] to discuss options and record progress.
I am literally talking to myself but as if to one person removed. I find it helps to clarify thoughts and ideas as they come to me. Putting it all down on virtual paper has a way of exposing any faulty thinking. The voice in my head, as I write, becomes a second team member. Another person off whom I can bounce ideas. Not in the split personality sense but a cooler head. If I were to simply go ahead, without this added thought process, I might make costly or irrevocable mistakes.
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