Rust never sleeps

From time to time, it's great to have a good old clear out. Rifling through boxes that haven't been opened since about 1346 and throwing loads of superfluous stuff away is always eminently cathartic. If you're lucky, you might even work up a real head of steam and purge decades worth of bric-a-brac in a few hours, leaving you to lie back and bask in the warm glow of a job well done at the end of the day.

Unfortunately, that scenario is very much the exception. What normally happens is that you get distracted by everything and anything and end up whiling the hours away reading old football programmes and playing with a Slinky which your auntie bought you when you were little, even though you lived in a bungalow. (How childhood toys from the north of Liverpool ended up in Malaga is anyone's guess, but I've come across quite a few).

Anyway, in one box full of old percussion instruments, I found what can only be described as a potential fortune. Nestling in there, hidden among the rusty tambourines and the mouldy shakers, I discovered some very old premium bonds. Now, for anyone under the age of a hundred and twenty three, these were a sort of national lottery thing, whereby you bought a bond - or, more commonly your grandma bought one for you - and crossed your fingers that you'd soon get a letter flopping onto your door mat telling you you were a millionaire, even though you were only six. Apparently, all these decades later, these premium bonds are still valid and have been entered into a national UK draw every week or month or something ever since. Even better, no-one in our family has lived at the address they correspond to for aeons. In a nutshell, then, I might currently be the richest man in the world. My sister will be investigating further because, frankly, I can't stand the tension.

Meanwhile, I'll keep on with the clearing out; at the rate I'm going it should be all done, if not necessarily dusted, by July - 2024. It's actually a very enjoyable pastime and when I've finished writing this, I'll get back to opening a few more boxes in order to continue investigating the endless treasures within.

Oh alright, let's be honest, it's much more likely I'll get distracted, laying down a few funky grooves on a rusty tambourine. It's what millionaires do.