When it comes to possessions I like to think I'm a minimalist and I've slowly realised that this makes me something of an oddity in this mass-marketed consumer-driven world.
Don't get me wrong; I can be as materialistic as anyone when it comes to objects I use every day but I tend to eschew anything that would get only the occasional airing.
Let me explain. I don't own a toasted sandwich maker; I use my Jamie Oliver non-stick frying-pan instead. I don't have a food processor; rather I chop with knives and mix with wooden spoons. To be honest, a certain aversion to housework also drives this choice. Most kitchen appliances strike me as being awkward objects to clean and furthermore, inveterate dust-gatherers as they await their next outing.
I don't have an electric fry-pan, a slow cooker, milkshake machine, rice cooker, bread-maker, waffle maker, bench-top mini oven or George Foreman grill. And, although I secretly covet their gleaming industrial good looks, I eschew coffee machines too. We don't drink the stuff; Bell teabags supply us with our caffeine hits. Neither do I have a refrigerator that dispenses chilled water; I guess I'll consider buying one when we are no longer capable of prising ice-cubes from plastic trays and running the kitchen tap.
In March last year my eight-year-old grew too tall for her hand-me-down Pumpkin Patch jeans and I didn't get around to buying her a new pair for about six months. She wears a uniform to school and for a while it seemed that her civilian wardrobe consisted only of a party frock, tracksuit, a few tee-shirts and a pair of jodphurs.
Shopping expeditions are just low on our list of priorities. Plus we seem to make things last. My favourite hooded sweatshirt has a star motif and was purchased from Glassons in Christchurch circa 2002. Good as new. One careful lady owner.
I don't have a linen cupboard. All the towels we possess are hanging in the bathroom and all sheets are on the beds. They get washed, dried and immediately put back where they belong. They definitely don't get ironed, folded and stacked in a cupboard for future use. I must confess that an innate laziness on my part has a hand in this habit. By not having a linen cupboard I'm cannily avoiding some needless double-handling on the domestic front.