One of the bigger jobs I've promised to tackle this holiday is the 'room of shame'. Despite my lack of pride when it comes to my desk for WOYWW, I'm, not sharing' before' pictures of this spare room. Suffice to say, when we 're-modeled' Miss Dunnit's bedroom into something suitable for a grown up , all the girly, kid stuff was consigned to boxes and slung in the room of shame. And I mean all. Everything - toys, teddies, books, junk...all of it. So today, armed with 4 boxes - keep, bin, ebay, charity - I set the timer and we made a start. The timer was set because it is misery - getting her to part with anything is hard, and sorting out a load of junk that's been sitting quietly and without blame for too long is horrible. We tackled one large box. We ahhed and oohed over the plastic jewellery and the collection of Horrible History books and we laughed at the number of little handbags she was given as birthday presents from the age of about 4. Yep - 2 months in front of her 18th birthday and we still have 'em. We fished out about 30 sheets of stickers which she's going to hand over to the neices and some really fab neice appropriate beady jewellery. The rest was broken down into the four boxes......and for once, without tears or argument. She seems to have turned the corner of sentiment and for one box full at least, is OK to part with stuff that really, she'll never look at again even if we do stuff it into yet more boxes in the attic. So...what do you reckon my chances are for tomorrow's twenty minutes? And the day after - when she realises that two of the bigger boxes are full of stuff that I should have gone through when that little room was my craft room - before I moved into this purpose built, downstairs room? Save me...the double standard is weighing me down already!