Minimalist resolutions

(My photo - I've let the clock run down - the ticking and bonging were irritating!)

For me New Year's Eve is a thoughtful time of year, more so than solstice or Christmas. I may have inherited this from my mother: every new year's eve she writes about each of her children, grandchildren, her two sisters and their children and a few other chosen ones. She records what they have been doing the past year, where they seem to be going, what she's worried about them, what she hopes for them in special notebooks separate from her writing notes and normal diary... Or so she says. I have only her word for this, as she doesn't share the thoughts and says she'll get rid of the set of notebooks before too long.

One day I'll have to ask her permission to read them.

This was especially poignant these last two years. For two years now, we've gone away for a couple of days around New Year's Eve with another family. Adults and kids all get on well, and it's great to see the new year in together.

But there were deeper reasons. My friend's father passed away suddenly, and his mother had already developed alzheimer's and was in a nearby home. He needed to spend some time down there to visit her, so we agreed to go down there to provide moral support and to share NY'sE together. It turned out to be pretty miserable affair that year - apart from his difficult situation we all had colds, so it was a quiet occasion.

This year we went again to help him clear out. For him it could have been a miserable event, going through the detritus of his parent's lives.

We helped ship carloads of junk to the dump; moved salvageable stuff into the garage for the charity shop to come see; lots of cleaning. The evenings of course we fun, we played daft games together, ate, drank and chatted until late. But we worked hard during the day; and for us this was a good way to get active after the sluggish Christmas eating, and he was very grateful for the help.

One day I'll be asking my friend to return the help.

When we came back home, we looked at our groaning, badly organised cupboards with dismay. We have now ordered some step cupboard tidies. It renewed my minimalist soul - things, stuff, objects - they hold you down, get in the way, clutter up your life. The last thing I want to do is to burden my son with having to clear up after me the way we had to clear up after my friend's parents.

When friends from elsewhere visit Hastings they always want to go have a look at the very many antique shops, so, being the good host, I always go with them. But the sheer amount of pointless stuff in them always gets me down. It's just not my thing. I've got rid of all my novels twice; I passed on my vinyl; I ditched the cassette tapes with gay abandon; I Freecycled the minidisks with regret - a great system, then more recently bought one off ebay so that I could listen to my own music I'd produced; I ditched all my CDs when filesharing happened; now with Spotify, I don't even need to keep data. I prefer my Kindle and Kindle app to carving up trees.

Maybe one day we'll get beyond owning things... unlike my mother. Her every surface is covered with nicknacks that she's named, and arranges and collects from charity shops. I've helped her move so many times, I'm familiar with the sheer amount of stuff she drags around with her. To her it's comfort; to me it's dead-weight. In that, at least, we're different; and that's something to be thankful for.