Settling down in front of the TV with a glass of wine, your eye is drawn to a big pile of out-of-date magazines cluttering up the coffee table. Do you a) sort through them now and chuck out the ones you don't need, b) turn the light off so they're less visible or c) seek professional help? It may sound drastic, but as someone who's been turning the light off for years, c) has become my best option. Not only are my hoarding and procrastinating tendencies cluttering my living room (from which I also work), but they're cluttering my head up too. It's hard to relax when all you can see are reminders of your untidiness. Can Rachel Stark from Clutter Free declutter my lounge – and mind?
On the phone, Rachel's nice. She explains that she's not going to come into my house all strict Kim and Aggie style, but is here to gently suggest and help give solutions to my storage problems and so on. We make an appointment and chat through my clutter issues before she arrives, discussing which areas we'd like to focus on. After a while I'm surprised to find myself saying that it's my workspace I'd like to focus on: the first of a few surprises to come out of my mouth over the coming few days. Rachel has a way of drawing priorities out of you without you even realising it.
On the big day, I have a minor tidy, but decide to give my expert the honest truth: ie, a workspace that was once organised, but has descended into piles of hard-to-access, impossible-to-categorise paperwork. My drawers are bulging and my filing cabinet won't shut. But I need all this stuff, don't I? Well, yes and no, says Rachel. First of all she points out that paperwork I don't need every day can be filed elsewhere: it doesn't need to be right next to my desk. Obvious, but somehow I needed telling.
Secondly, we bite the bullet and pick a couple of drawers to tackle. I sift through piles of old cuttings, torn bits of paper and five-year-old correspondence under her watchful eye. 'This must be boring for you,' I apologise. 'No, I'm watching you,' says Rachel, in a way that immediately makes me more ruthless. She shifts to encouraging mode as everything is sorted into three huge piles: for recycling, rubbish and the charity shop. There's something deeply satisfying about watching the bags get bigger and I don't have my usual urge to pull things back out. Much.
So, great progress, but there's still the matter of some big ugly box files sitting on the floor next to an armchair, which are distracting for me when I'm trying to relax, and can be a cumbersome obstacle if we've got more than four people round to dinner. Couldn't they go where all those videos are? suggests Rachel gently. She's referring to the massive six-shelf bookshelf crammed with video tapes behind my desk. Her eagle eyes have spotted a solution: there's room for shelving in one of the cupboards in the living room, which could easily house 30 or so videos. But first, we need to dump some vids.
While protesting that a recent clearout (two years ago) dispensed with all the tapes I don't need, I find myself chucking out loads. As I inspect each tape, I talk merrily to myself about whether or not I need to keep it - often, as Rachel points out, answering my own questions. The thing is, I wouldn't be asking those questions if she hadn't come calling.
After a chat over lunch, we make some goals about reorganising my filing, buying some pretty box files etc, and I promise to give her a progress report the following week. She has a quick look at my clothes collection (three wardrobes, two clothes rails, three chests of drawers and then some) and for once appears speechless. Our remaining hour is not going to be enough to tackle that one.
When Rachel leaves, I alternate between triumph and despondency. I've made great progress, but will I really be able to carry on what we've started? That weekend I get my answer, clearing another three shelves of videos and surprising my cynical partner with my new-found ruthlessness. It's not always a barrel of laughs rooting through my old stuff: sometimes you come across letters with painful associations. But ripping them up – or filing them in a careful, specially designed place – can help you feel like you're moving on and making a fresh start.
It's not an immediate miracle-worker: as I write, I can still see a pile of unposted, week-old correspondence looking at me, and my nail varnish shouldn't really be on this desk. But now I've seen the calming benefits of clearing a space, I reckon I might just do something about it.
Rachel Stark can be contacted at www.clutterfree.co.uk, tel 01453 766447/07946 357022; Rachel@clutterfree.co.uk
