Kevin Page: Unwanted item finds its way back home

Mrs P has been doing a great job of sorting out things for donation to the op shops as we stick to our plan to get rid of unwanted items Photo / 123rf

OPINION

Just this last week Mrs P and I managed to sneak out of town for a few days.

We headed towards a little place where we have friends we haven't seen in way too long. I'm sure you know what I mean.

On the day of our departure we went through the standard process of getting organised. And as usual I finished my bit an hour or so before Mrs P and paced the driveway while I waited. As you do.

Eventually, after I'd worn a clear path in the concrete driveway and used up half the petrol I'd put in the car from the night before warming it up, Mrs P emerged with a bag.

Having already stuffed 723 bags into every nook and cranny available in our car I shot her a look of exasperation.

To be honest, I didn't even try to shoot the look. It just happened naturally. Her response indicated she got the message.

"It's just a coat for the op shop," she said. "We'll drop it off on the way through town."

Now ladies it may pay to ask your fella about this bit. I may sound a tad unreasonable but you blokes will feel my pain I'm sure.

In my head I had our route planned. All designed to reach certain spots at certain times to miss the traffic, kids going to school or coming home, the roadworks on the corner . . . that sort of thing. I just wanted to get where we were going and chill. So, a deviation to drop off a coat was not part of my flight plan, if you get my drift.

To top it all off we were already late getting away because She Who Must Be Obeyed wanted to make sure the soon-to-be empty house was tidy – presumably for anybody who broke in while we were away - so there was time to make up to get us back on schedule.

As it turned out we both forgot about dropping the coat off in our home town. We were having a heated, er, "discussion" and completely forgot.

But there you go. I'm sure we aren't the first to go through such dramas. Regardless it was all forgotten by the time we reached our destination some hours later and, lo and behold, what was the first place we saw as we hit town? An op shop.

Mrs P was hypnotised and practically out the door before the car had stopped.

Once I'd done the necessary post flight checks – wallet, phone, keys - I followed her in with the late bag and handed over the double-breasted grey coat which had caused hostilities to break out earlier.

I hoped the donation would find a good home with someone who would get some use out of it.

Mrs P had bought it a few years back now. At the time she'd loved it but gradually it had been pushed further and further back in the pecking order as other new and more suitable coats had arrived at our humble abode. Eventually she had a wardrobe stuffed with seldom-used ones.

I don't know why I was surprised. When we had first met My Beloved had a thing about jeans. I won't say exactly how many pairs she had because that would be a little unkind but I'll give you a clue. It rhymes with thwenty-thix.

Now don't get me wrong. A pair of jeans that fit in all the right places is most definitely one of the wonders of the world as far as I'm concerned and my lady has left me with many a sweet dream over the years in that respect. But eventually you have to put things into perspective and ask whether you really need that many or you just need a bigger house with more storage.

Sound familiar?

Anyway.

Mrs P has been going gangbusters lately as part of our plan to reduce unwanted items for our eventual move to a lifestyle block with the kids.

Out for donation to the op shops have gone numerous pairs of jeans, coats etc etc. So much has disappeared from her closets I swear I heard the hanger rail let out a sigh of relief the other day.

She's also doing very well at just browsing when she visits the op shops these days, the exception being if it's something for Baby Poppy. Then we just grab it regardless like all grandparents do.

So, anyway, there we are in this little town down the line and we finally get to see our long-lost friends.

It's a great catch up and later that evening, as we bid them farewell and head to our motel, we promise to call in again before we head home.

A day and a bit later, after a bit of looking round and a nice lunch we call in to see them for a quick, pre-return cuppa.

Finally, it's time to go and as we do the necessary farewells at the roadside our host suddenly recalls something and races back inside.

She re-emerges two minutes later with a familiar-looking item of clothing which she hands to Mrs P.

Turns out she'd been down to their new op shop that very morning and found this coat. She'd bought it but after trying it on again at home felt it wasn't quite right for her after all.

But she was pretty sure it would suit Mrs P to a T.