Fairly early this morning I made my way down to my garage. The garage, or more accurately it’s content is my guilty secret. Until some inestimable point a few years ago I travelled through life without the encumbrance of too many material goods. It was not a conscious decision but probably a Darwinian mix of up bringing, lack of the ability to pay for said material goods and a certain attitude to other priorities in life. At one stage, in my late twenties, I returned to the cold bosom of the UK after a year spent in tropical climes with a surf board , a back pack of tee shirts and other grubby garments. I had no money and no prospects of earning money to pay for the the stuff that I now take for granted. After a while the lack of cash and the way of life in these grey Islands propelled me into a far more conventional mode that I dare say is familiar to readers of this organ (Ed – Are there any readers of this organ?).
Back to the garage. My intention this morning was to cycle a loop to Bideford and back. The weather has put pay to any other of my favoured activities this weekend. I have still to discern the purpose of north west winds and the weather that associates itself with them but maybe with further ageing and new experiences all will become clear.Anyhow, when I threw the up and over door a chaotic and unsettling sight greeted me. Surfboards strewn in an untidy pile at the end of the garage in weird conglomerate with many pieces of surfboard rack and other detritus. The sight shocked me in similar way that a motor accident does when you come upon it unexpectedly (Ed-com’on get serious). It was hard to take in. Time passed and I gathered my wits. The rack that I fitted two or three years ago had collapsed in pack of cards style . The rack was constructed in hardwood, so far so good, but on close inspection had been finger jointed and glued with the inevitable (with hindsight) result that the glue failed in the dank garage conditions. Fortunately only one board is dinged. I have to admit though whilst standing there I felt as if something serious and sinister had happened.
My garage contains, amongst other things, 11 surboards (10 of them mine), five bikes (3 of them mine) and 5 skateboards. During the slog back from Bideford in the wind and rain I had time to reflect on this,my guilty secret. Ownership is a double edged sword. The pleasures are manifest but from time to time I question the hold that this stuff has on me.