FRANCES WHITING

“Let’s have a rummage through my drawers, shall we?”

Thank you to all the librarians and readers who got in touch following my recent column/love letter to these book-lined sanctuaries. One reader from Adelaide wrote to say she recently fell asleep with her toddler in an armchair in her local library.

The librarians let her sleep, one took over reading to her toddler and they later woke her up with a cup of tea. Can I say I think this is just lovely, and can I also inform my colleagues to immediately adopt this exact strategy should I nod off at my desk?

This is a real possibility at the moment as we’re moving house and I’m a little tired from packing all those boxes and wrestling with the giant, packing tape dispenser.

I’m currently going through all the items from what is known – depending on the household – as the junk drawer, the “just in case” drawer, or the third drawer down – which is where it normally resides in various cabinets.

Every household has one of these drawers; it’s the one where you bung all the things you don’t know where else to put, have no discernible function or value, and yet you can’t quite bring yourself to throw out.

Anyway, I’m currently going through all the stuff in ours, so I can transfer it all to the new one. And here’s the thing about these drawers, not only does everybody have one, the contents are remarkably the same.

Don’t believe me? Let’s have a rummage through my drawers, shall we? It sounds very Bridgerton, but is far less exciting …

Sets of keys from every single house we have ever lived in, or car we have ever driven. Also keys to various sheds, neighbours’ houses and miscellaneous ones with bits of string attached to them.

One set of teeny, tiny keys to open a teeny, tiny padlock somewhere. Possibly a diary? Or a suitcase? We will never know, and yet we also know we will never throw them out.

Miscellaneous stationery items such as paperclips, Post-it notes, highlighter pens, ruler and compass – in case we ever need to urgently draw a perfect circle.

Roll of hundreds of rubber bands. In case we ever need to make an emergency tennis ball.

Shoe polish. In case we ever polish our shoes.

Takeaway menus from every

Chinese, Mexican, Indian and Thai restaurant we have ever ordered from, including one that is now a drive-through dry cleaner.

Blackout emergency items.

Candles. Box of matches, mostly lit.

Torch with no battery in it.

Some Blu Tack.

Light bulbs, various sizes, all with the wrong fittings.

Post-it note with “Call Marco!” scrawled on it, and a number. I don’t know who Marco is. I only know I never called him.

Right, that’s about it. The other drawer I’ll be sorting through later today is the one where I’ve kept all the cards/ notes/letters my children have sent me over the years.

Those handwritten, misspelt, stickfigured, crayon-dipped, honey-smeared missives that I carry with me wherever I go, the pieces of heart luggage that tell me I’m home.