Big Mama: MILITARY PRECISION

A glass of rosé will always help the process along

I've just started the process which is known as "the house seller's nightmare." But I pride myself on being a good planner and a logistics expert, skills acquired during a long life of working full time, with three kids in three different day cares - crèche in one area of Oslo, kindergarten in another and school in a third. If everything was not managed with military precision the whole day would simply unravel.

So my plan is watertight: 1-NOW) Packing, chucking and moving stuff out of living room so that decorators can move in. 2-APRIL/MAY) Packing, chucking, moving and storing everything visible in the rest of the house so that all rooms can be styled and staged for photography and viewing. 3-JUNE/AUGUST) Packing and moving things in cupboards, closets and drawers - and furniture. Basically - THE REST.

Going through one's old things is always interesting, and the worst is making decisions about getting rid of ancient trinkets, photos, cards, letters and kids' drawings and schoolbooks. And for me perhaps the most traumatic, the overall nightmare - is throwing out my books. Oh, how it hurts! First one round sorting out all my paperbacks that I know I won't read again, then a second round sorting the hardbacks. So much fantastic literature! So much pleasure it's all given me! Alas - there's a time for everything.

This one is allowed to stay

Most of the books with this sticker are allowed to remain in my collection - too many memories and good reads here!

At this time of year there's a flea market every weekend at every school in Oslo, and this afternoon my husband and I drove the few kilometres to my old school up the road to drop off the books. Although it's close it's an area I seldom frequent. I've reflected on why I don't, and I think the memories are almost too vivid, too overwhelming. The nostalgia is just too daunting. I have an extremely good memory, and it's almost like everything comes alive for me again and I'm transported back to my 60s childhood. I can literally see the cars, the bicycles, the kids in their 60s clothes (not a wide selection there - the way we looked in my school photo from 1963, in my last blog post). And the surroundings and the school haven't changed AT ALL! I lived in the apartment block next to the school, and I'm sure that if I walked around it I'd recall every stone, every path, every wall, every tree, every slope, every lawn (which we weren't allowed to tread on. As if we cared….) How all us kids, regardless of age, played hide-and-seek in dark winter evenings, ball games and marbles in long summer nights - when we were allowed to stay out much later because of the light. Do kids play outside these days?

Smestad - my old school. My brother was photographed sitting on this wall on his first day of school! Even the colours are the same.

My apartment block. I lived close! I could run from home when I heard the bell ring.

Some of the old photos I've found clearing out closets, cupboards and drawers are fabulous! This one of my husband in 1971 - as he's climbing into a canal boat in Amsterdam. The text on the back claims it's Easter, so it's taken exactly forty-three years ago. He is 24 here, and I was still at school, 15 years old. I knew nothing of him, nor he of me - heaven forbid… That would have been improper!

2nd July 1983

I happened to drive through the woods around Oslo this afternoon and spotted quite a few patches of snow in between the thick undergrowth. But winter is definitely gone! And I find myself creeping out of my hibernation. My fantastic caring friends and family know exactly how to show me the joys of the "Primavera" - a colourful home cooked scrumptious lunch on an ordinary weekday at an old friend's house, a surprise visit and the sweetest flower from my lovely Danish neighbour, the grateful and happy birthday girl Mira.