The disorganised hoarder

The benefit of being both a hoarder and disorganised is that on those regrettable occasions when you do suddenly feel the need to have a clear out, you can't find anything suitable to throw away. And, periodically, this pays dividends.

This week, the home office up at the house was given a clear out and, consequently, today I was handed a bag - one of those big, blue Ikea ones - full of goodies, including a load of of photos like this one and a brown envelope containing my birth certificate*.

As you can see, the envelope also included a cutting of the announcement of my birth from the Surrey Advertiser, some notes for my mum about my various dimensions, and a pass for my dad to come and visit us. The last was of particular interest, evidencing how a new mother was allowed ONE visitor each evening, for 45 minutes.

What is undocumented is not only the fathers' routine absence from their children's births but the fact that they might have to wait until the following morning to be notified that their wife had a child during the night. I'm glad all that has changed.

*One of the downsides of being disorganised would have become apparent if I'd needed to lay my hands on my birth certificate prior to today.