I’m pretty houseproud. I like a clean space, an un-littered kitchen worktop, a clothes-free bedroom floor. But my handbag is gross. I don’t know why I’m so terribly bad at organising the stuff inside. And since I’ve become a mother I keep finding odd things in there like tiny pairs of socks, used bibs and those plastic syringe things you get with bottles of Calpol.
Today my handbag contains reams of tissue (kid has a cold), pens, notepads, earrings, a memory stick (don’t know what’s on it), a lolly, hair clips, tampons and crumbs. I also have a million expired cards in my purse. Plus kindling; dozens of receipts.
I remember finding the remote control for the TV in my bag once. God knows why it was there. I still couldn’t tell you.
I need to clean my bag.