I hope I’m not alone in my approach to housekeeping, and that this sounds familiar to the majority of people, but I’m a bit of an enigma when it comes to tidiness. Like Monica in Friends, many would probably label me as obsessive and particular when it comes to cleaning, and I do like to keep my space clutter-free and clean, especially the areas I laze around in and that others see if they pop round for a cup of tea. However – like Monica – I hide a dark secret behind a closed door; a hulking heap of junk, known in our household as The Mountain of Doom.

This poem describes one of my attempts to sort through said heap, and some of the treasures I discovered during this deep dive.