Every month I put a FREE short story on here. Here’s the story for January 2026.
Clearing the Clutter
“He’s driving me mad,” Maggie said to her friend Gladys as they sat in the coffee shop on Saturday morning. “He won’t throw anything away. Over forty years of accumulated clutter – honest it’s enough to try the patience of a saint.”
Gladys chuckled. “I wouldn’t describe you as any sort of a saint,” she said. “But I know what you mean. It starts with their marbles you know.”
“Their marbles? What does?”
“The passion for collecting things. Who’s got the biggest, the best, the most? They never grow up do they? Men – like little boys they are.”
Maggie nodded her agreement.
Gladys sighed. “My Gerald was the same, always trying to cling on to the past. I’d have to sneak his stuff out and pretend it had got lost. He never missed it.”
“Harry would miss it,” Maggie said. “He doesn’t like change see. If I move an ornament or try to disappear it he always notices and asks where it is. I did take an old jacket and trousers to the charity shop once and blow me if he didn’t go out and buy them back.” She tutted and took a sip of coffee. “I wouldn’t mind but every room in the house is like a museum; full of old toys, books, videos and tapes, his first ever record player. He keeps telling me they’ll be worth something one day. If he’d let me have a good clear out we could have a lovely place like our Sandra’s.”
Gladys raised her eyebrows. “What’s so special about your Sandra’s that’s got you all of a dither?”
“Ooooh Sandra’s place is lovely. All white and chrome with wood floors and bare walls… No dust-collecting memorabilia cluttering up the place.” Maggie’s eyes misted over at the vision in her head.
“Sounds boring,” Gladys said. “Like a hospital.”
Maggie huffed. “No it’s not like that. It’s modern, clean and bright. Not like ours. Honest, sometime I feel as though I’m living in the junk yard that time forgot.” She took another sip of coffee. “The way Harry’s carrying on you’d think I wanted to throw out his most prized possessions.”
“Perhaps to Harry you are,” Gladys said.
On the way home Maggie recalled the conversation she’d had with Harry about his accumulation of useless clutter. “I don’t know why you’re keeping all this stuff,” she’d said. “I could take some to the Charity shop or give it to the jumble”
“What stuff?” Harry had raised his head from his newspaper a frown creasing his brow.
“All these old videos and tapes for a start. I’m fed up with dusting them. We’ll never watch them or listen to the tapes again will we?”
Harry sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with them. There’s a world of memories on those shelves.”
“But we can’t watch them or listen to them can we? The video player’s broken and I haven’t seen that tape recorder for years. What’s the point of keeping them?”
“They’re not eating anything and no one else would want them. It’s all DVDs and iPods these days. No, best leave them be,” he said, then settled into his paper again letting Maggie know the subject was closed.
Maggie wasn’t so easily beaten. She flicked her duster over the ornaments on the sideboard, souvenirs and gifts from their children’s various holidays abroad. “Do we really need half-a-dozen assorted vases, cruets, oil and vinaigrette bottles and ash trays? They’d be alright for the Charity shop.”
“I’m sure they meant something to the children when they gave them to us,” Harry said, still engrossed in his paper. “You can’t throw them out. It’s not as though they take up much room is it?”
Maggie pouted. Of course he was right. You couldn’t throw out children’s gifts anymore than you could throw out memories but everything around her appeared old and outdated: the 1930”s furniture inherited from his parents, the still serviceable three-piece suite they’d bought second-hand when they got married, the carpet that had seen better days. True, they’d bought a new TV, a stereo for CDs and a DVD player but she still felt trapped in a time-warp.
Harry sighed as he sat over his second cup of tea of the day. The conversation with Maggie had unsettled him. She was having one of her “let’s throw everything out and start again” forays amongst his stuff. Stuff he’d kept for years; his toy car collection, his train set, his Roy of the Rovers and Beano Annuals, to Maggie they were all junk, no longer of any use – a bit like him.
He wandered from room to room gazing at his various collections.
Every time she got into one of her tizzies about what she called “clearing the clutter” he’d fight back. “They’ll be worth something one day,” he’d tell her. It was the only thing that made her think twice and let him keep them, but even that excuse was wearing a bit thin.
She’d got into a right old huff this time and even slammed the door on him. Now he supposed he’d be treated to a week of tight lips and cold shoulder. He tried to see things through her eyes. True the books, videos and tapes were outdated. He wouldn’t mind but he’d bought most of them for her. Not his taste at all. Now she wanted rid of them. There was no understanding women.
He smiled as he opened a box of tapes. These were his favourites, the background music to their teenage years: The Batchelors, Jim Reeves, Frank Ifield, Leapy Lee, every one evoked a memory: their first dance, first date, first kiss, falling in love. How could he throw those out?
He was going through the tapes when Maggie walked in.
“Having a sort out?” she said. “About time too.” She picked up one of the tapes he’d put to one side. “Oh,” she said, turning it over in her hands. “I remember this. It’s the one you recorded specially for me just before we got married.” Her face lit up into a smile. “All my favourite songs,” She read through the titles in Harry’s scribbled handwriting on the label and a host of memories crowded her brain.
Harry grinned. “Took me ages to do it, but it was worth it to see the look on your face. You were mad on that chap in the Beatles – remember?”
She closed her eyes and started to hum She Loves You, Yeah Yeah, swaying slightly as she hummed.
Harry stepped forward and, with a playful twinkle in his eye, swept her into his arms, waltzed her round the room, swung into a jive. and spun her around as he sung the words.
“It was our song, remember?” he said as she collapsed laughing into a chair.
She felt a ripple of pleasure at his uncharacteristic exuberance. “We never missed a dance when they played that did we?” She caught her breath. “How could I forget.”
“I used to sing it all the way home after I’d dropped you off.” Harry’s eyes shone at the memory. “I’ve got one of their albums here somewhere,” he said, rummaging through the stack of LPs on the chair. He found what he was looking for and handed it to Maggie.
She gazed at it and ran her hand over the glossy picture.“It’s lovely,” she said, “but not much good when we’ve nothing to play it on. It’s all CDs now.”
“Well, there’s the old record player.” Harry glanced around trying to find it.
“Yes, but the stylus went. You remember, you were going to replace it but never did.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Harry said quietly, as though lost in memory. “It didn’t seem important at the time, what with a new baby to worry about.” He glanced at Maggie. “Remember how anxious we were about our Sandra with her being so small? Such a lovely baby she was but every cry, every cough, every tiny sniffle gave us a sleepless night…” He breathed a sigh. “I wouldn’t have missed those days for the world,” he said, with the glimmer of a tear in his eyes. Then he huffed, pulling his thoughts back to today, “Still, we got through it and she’s grown up to make us proud.”
“She has that,” Maggie said. She took a breath, “Paul McCartney! I had a picture of him on my wall.”
“Yes, and how many times did you watch that film he was in?”
“Must have been hundreds.” Maggie laughed. “I travelled all over the country just to see him and the other Beatles,” she said.
Harry chuckled as he said, “Remember that time I drove you to Brighton and the car broke down…?”
“And I didn’t believe you when you said we’d have to stay the night as the car was in the garage…?”
“So I bought you a train ticket and rang your mum to make sure you got home safe…”
“And I loved you all the more for it…”
“It took me every penny I had and I had to sleep on the garage mechanic’s sofa…” Harry grinned. “Happy days eh?”
Maggie’s face softened. Tears filled her eyes.. “Happy days,” she said.
Later in the week Maggie was amazed to see Harry boxing up some of the videos and tapes.
“What on earth?” she said.
Harry smiled. “Well, you wanted rid of them.”
“Yes, I do, but what brought this on? Not that I’m not delighted of course but why the change of heart?”
Harry chuckled. “It’s not really. I ran into Billy Brown in town. We stopped for a pint and he was telling me about his Dad, old Frank. He’s in Greenacres Care Home, the one down by the canal.
Harry put the last of the tapes and videos he’d selected into the box. “Apparently these old tapes and videos help folk remember their past. Takes ‘em back to their youth and does ‘em a world of good. I’m taking a box over this afternoon. I thought you’d be pleased.”
Maggie grinned. “I am. Tell them they can keep them as long as they like and we’ve plenty more.”
When Harry returned he was almost bursting with excitement. He called Maggie to help him climb up into the loft. “You hold the ladder and I’ll get up there.”
“Up in the loft? Are you mad? Climbing ladders at your age, whatever for?”
“Hold the ladder. You’ll see.”
After about twenty minutes rummaging around Harry handed a heavy box down to Maggie.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Films. You remember that old cine camera we had? There’ll be films in here of the town in the old days, me and Billy fishing on the canal with Frank, and the kids when they were tiny. Look, I’ve even found the projector.” He stepped off the bottom of the ladder. “See, I told you they’d be worth something one day.”
“Worth something?” Maggie’s eyes sprang wide.
“Yes. What could be more precious than old folks’ memories? You can’t put a price on them can you? No more than you can put a price on our memories.” He handed Maggie the CD he’d bought in the market.
“What’s this” Maggie took it out of the bag and gasped. “She Loves You by the Beatles. It must be a collector’s item now.” A broad smile lit up her face. “Must have cost a fortune.”
“Worth every penny,” Harry said, “to keep our memories alive.” He’d done something right at last. Perhaps now Maggie wouldn’t be so keen to get rid of what she called ‘his clutter.’
Maggie’s face broke into a smile and she gave Harry a hug. Perhaps he was right after all, memories were worth preserving. She even thought about having that old record player repaired, not that they listened to music much these days, and certainly never went dancing – still, that could change. She rushed to put the CD on the stereo. Perhaps Harry’s clutter wasn’t so bad after all.
If you enjoyed this story there are many more in my Short Story Collections here.
