I spend a lot of time worrying about stuff, as in physical, you know, stuff. Things I use, things I no longer use, things I’ve never used and never will, things I’d happily give away if anyone wanted them, things which will surely end up in landfill, dumped there by me or my children, or my children’s children. To misquote Larkin: Man hands on stuff to man, or in my case women. They’ll not thank me for it.
Deborah has an interesting take on this, almost as an aside in a radio interview – she’d featured in the Guardian the week before – about how, at the age of 65, she’s renting a room in a house she’s sharing with three people whose ages, she says, barely add up to more than hers. She does so by choice, having no appetite for the upkeep of a house big enough to accommodate visiting grandchildren. Renting, she at least knows how much money is going out, and her children aren’t expecting to inherit much. She says they’re agreed that “money isn’t something you collect, it’s something that allows you to do things”. And what she’s got, after she’s paid the rent, she intends to spend on enjoying life.
