Oh, that fateful phrase. In homes everywhere, it has filled lofts and garages and sheds full off stuff that just might, one day...well, you know what I mean.
This morning, with a nice free day (visiting grandchildren, Easter, royal wedding etc all behind me) I decided to rid my wardrobe of old/unwanted/mistakenly-bought clothes. So far so good. The pile on the bed built up nicely. The hangers clattered emptily. I began to feel pleasantly smug.
But hang on a minute...This might still fit (tried it on. It did); this doesn't look too bad after all (back it went); this was so expensive, I can't just get rid of it (ditto). And so on.
I have washed the few thing that I really, really don't want, and will iron them and take them to Oxfam. The rest...well, they might - they just might - come in useful. As for the things still languishing in the washing machine, I've been thinking. They're in good nick, and they're clean now. I might try them on once more. Just to make sure I'm doing the right thing...