Nothing of significance

Freecycling, i.e., gutting cupboards, amassing broken household objects, staring at them with alternating states of curiosity and indifference, then wondering whether the neighbours would conclude it as rubbish as I do, or maybe my gift will be the answer to all their prayers. If they are praying for a non-suck vacuum cleaner and a selection of storage jars without lids, then I can deliver.

So far I have done quite well. I have answered the prayers of six people with a bag of fabric offcuts, a garden swing without a frame, an unused breadmaker, a kid's playmat, a box of musical instruments, and a plastic bag of Duplo supplied with resident spider. We are simple folk in our happy town.

But I suspect the breadmaker. It is merely surfing our neighbourhood. We aspirant bakers are passing it from one kitchen to the next until it reveals our inadequacies. I expect the latest recipient will do exactly what I did. Read the instructions, think them very complicated when everyone says they are easy, then stick the breadmaker in the cupboard and forget about it for 18 months before putting it back on Freecycle.

So that is it. Nothing of consequence. I am occupied mentally and physically by broken material items for which I ultimately have no affection or interest. I am considering stuff without concern, managing objects with no future and am building up for myself an enormous state of disconnect, as though I am turning out the guts of the house so I can leave it.

In this emptied-out frame of mind I must remember the things to which I have great attachment. I must remember to collect Shark from the lake. She is there this week, taking various levels of windsurfing courses, for which I must also remember to amass important and much-needed stuff such as 2 metres of rope and 3 bits of paper.

Squirrel and Tiger are doing I don't know what, but it involves an extremely important house brick which I must not make the mistake of moving a second time, and a hole in the ground. The hole is very important too, and I must remember not to keep pointing to it and saying, on behalf of my ankle, it is an accident waiting to happen.

I wish I had a life of greater significance to report, but maybe that is enough broken emptiness for one day. Anyway, I have a saucepan without a handle to dispose of.