Over the last couple of months, Mother Eris and I have been clearing out my room. I haven't ever properly sorted out all of my possessions, and now that I have been home from university for a year it seemed as good a time as ever.

I am what is commonly referred to as a hoarder. I squirrel items away, and I generally refuse point blank to get rid of anything. I am very much 'ah, a piece of string that I found in the road when I was six. I haven't needed it yet, but best not get rid of it, just in case'. This is why Mother Eris is involved. It is far easier to get rid of things when you have someone asking you why you need the bit of string.

Of course, this isn't to say that I am getting rid of everything. Important memories, like the notes Goldilocks and I used to write each other during GCSE Physics lessons, will never be thrown away. I have shoeboxes filled with memories, things I could never bear to get rid of.

However, I also have a lot of rubbish. I have videos that I now have on DVD, I have clothes that I am never going to be able to wear again, and clothes that I am never going to choose to wear again. I have CDs, books and DVDs that I look at with the benefit of hindsight and wonder why I thought that would be a good idea. The film version of Jilly Cooper's 'Man Who Made Husbands Jealous' is a prime example of that. We all have moments of madness, and the purchase of that is one of mine. Seriously, what was I thinking?!

This clear out also makes me very nostalgic. I find things that I haven't thought about for years; the cat ornament that a boy at primary school bought me, my old recorder, the sketches of wedding dresses that Goldilocks and I came up with when we were thirteen.

Things that have no monetary value whatsoever, but that make me think of a time of my life and smile. The sort of thing that means nothing to anyone else, but that I would like to keep for my entire life.

Most of my stuff that I am getting rid of I am giving to a charity shop, but a couple of things I am going to ask a friend to sell on ebay for me. The bridesmaid dress and matching shoes that I wore when I was 15. There is no point in me keeping it, but someone else may like it.

I am finding the whole thing very theraputic. I cry, I smile, and I remember times in my life when I was happy, and times when I was not so happy. I wouldn't change a single thing, looking back on all these memories. Every single item reflects an event or a time in my life, and they all add up to make me the person I am today. Not perfect by any means, but not a terrible person either. With a wonderful family, amazing friends, and a job I adore. Not too bad, all in all.

Alas! I do fear me that I am becoming predictable!

A few weeks ago, whilst Mother Eris, Father Eris and myself were watching X Factor, the telephone rang. It was my best friend, whom I shall refer to for the moment as Goldilocks, on the flimsy excuse that she has just dyed her hair blonde(ish). The name will be changed, because she is going to kill me when she sees that. Anyhoo. Goldilocks was calling to tell me that she was in Wycombe. However, this is not just any telephone call. Goldilocks has been living in Brighton for the last 4 years. She has now moved permanently back to not-so-sunny Wycombe. She arrived back on that glorious Sunday, and was calling to let me know; she had previously not been 100% sure of the date she was coming.

Needless to say, I was overjoyed. I was in floods of tears; Goldilocks has been my best friend since we were twelve years old; we met on our way to school, at the bus stop. Our mothers work in the same profession, so were talking, and Goldilocks and I just started to chat. We have never looked back, ten years later.

As a celebration, we decided to go to Yo! Sushi for dinner last Monday night, and then go back to my house to watch some Scrubs (I recently bought Season 6 on DVD). This is where the predictability of Eris comes in; I can't remember the last time time I went out for dinner somewhere that wasn't Yo! Sushi! So we went along, Goldilocks hasn't seen Eden before, so we took a very brief tour around the centre before heading up to eat. As usual, the food was scrummy. We had some sake as well, although didn't quite pluck up the courage to have it warm.

We headed to the Eden taxi rank, however found no taxis, but rather two police officers talking to a group of rather suspicious looking people. So we backed off and headed to the High Street instead.

Once we got back to my house, we watched some Scrubs, and chatted over a bottle of red wine. We have been friends for such a long time now, 10 years next month.

I think it is remarkable that we have stayed friends for so long, especially as often when people head to university they tend to lose contact with their schoolfriends. I have been lucky enough not to; I still have many friends from my school days; as well as Goldilocks I have Prurient Badger, Ginge101, Red&Bitey, and many others that do not yet have names for this blog!

Goldilocks is my best friend, and there are no words to describe how happy I am to have her back.

Goodness gracious me, I am rather lax at the moment regarding my poor little blog!! Many apologies, I have no excuse for abandoning you all in such a cruel and heartless way. However, in a rather blatant attempt to ingratiate myself with you lovely people again, please sit back, get a nice cup of tea, and enjoy my long-promised Blog On The Theatre.

Quite a few weeks ago now, the Family Eris went to the theatre. Not just any theatre, my friends, nay. We went to Cliveden to see Charley's Aunt, an open air production. Well, we knew that by its' very nature, this production was going to be a) fantastic, and b) viewed by people who took picnicking seriously. So the Family Eris packed a picnic accordingly. Myself and Mother Eris had a lovely bottle of wine, Sister Eris had some Pina Colada from M&S, and Father Eris (as usual, our wonderful and put-upon token male and designated driver), had some nice cordial, again from the wonderful haven of Marks & Sparks. Foodwise, we had chicken, sausages, a rather nice salad in some tupperware, a fish platter from M&S, and other picnicky food. So we sat there with our chairs, and started to look around. Because Mother Eris and I are both terrible snobs, we started to feel a little inadequate in the picnic stakes. For example, why hadn't we brought a table?!? Why were we drinking out of plastic cups? So what if there was a risk we break the wine glasses? Damn....should have brought the good crystal. Hmm....our tupperware was all very well and good for a child's picnic, but the ideal manner in which to present an outdoor salad appeared to be in fact a salad bowl with matching tongs. Curses. However, we did have the last laugh when the people with their salad bowl, crystal wine glasses and bone china plates had to ask us if they could borrow a corkscrew.

So we stored these little bits of important information up, and watched the play. Which was just fantastic. The actors were both professional and able to ad lib when requested; even when things went wrong, or a plane flew overhead, they were able to continue, and to work it into the play. I am a fan of condensed theatre companies, when done well, and this was Charley's Aunt with five actors. It was utterly splendid. At the beginning, when we arrived, the actors were already in character, ready to greet the audience and show them where to sit. They interacted wonderfully, and were never out of character for a moment.

It was, in short, a fantastic, if eyeopening, evening out.

A few weeks after that, the Family Eris had tickets to another outdoors production, by the same company, this time at Hughenden Manor. This time Sister Eris, who had just got back from her sterotypical teenage holiday, was sleeping off her excesses, so Prurient Badger came along instead. And this time, Mother Eris and I were more prepared. We had been to Essentials in Hazlemere, and purchased ourselves a nice picnic table, and I had also managed to procure a lovely salad bowl with tongs, having been completely unable to get this vision out of my head since the last time. We also took along some wine glasses; Father Eris refused to let us take the best crystal, as both Mother Eris and myself are slightly clumsy and accident prone with less spacial awareness than a dizzy mole. However, we do have a lot of nice wine glasses, so we took along some of them. This time, we were among the people that (at least Mother Eris & I like to think) others were looking at thinking 'goodness, they do picnicking properly. Alas! How inadequate I feel! Herbert, dear, next time we come to such an event, I feel that a salad bowl really is required like the effortlessly sophisticated family in front of us'.

Even this time, however, we still learnt things from others. For example, next time we are definitely taking along a china cruet set and some scented candles. Also a flask of coffee; the National Trust do provide coffee, however Mother Eris & I prefer coffee that could walk down the road by itself if so required.

Midsummer Night's Dream was wonderful. It is one of my favourite Shakespeare plays, and neither Mother nor Father Eris had seen it before. With only 6 actors, it was done amazingly. Titania & Oberon were portrayed as old-fashioned faeries, very animalistic, nothing light and airy about them at all. The sexual attraction between them was shown, along with the way in which this attraction comes out in the quarreling, and the constant games they played with each other and the mortals.

Bottom was portrayed as an Irish builder, and had the audience in stitches. It was, to sum up, absolutely wonderful, with the beautiful backdrop of Hughenden Manor to set off the simplistic but very clever and multi-functional set.

Now, if anyone has any other suggestions as to how Mother Eris and I can put together the most apparently-effortless sophisticated picnic known to man, please let me know!

The reason for my recent prolonged absence from my blog is that work has suddenly become amazingly busy, so by the time I get home all I am good for is crashing out and watching a DVD. Makes me a splendid social butterfly, I can tell you.

However, on Tuesday, I took the bull by the horns and met some friends in Wycombe for dinner. We went to Yo! Sushi, as Prurient Badger (oh yes, she of the library fame) and I had been given some 50% off vouchers on our last visit there.

I adore Yo! Sushi. It feels like stealing for non-criminals; you just take stuff off the belt, and feel wicked about it. There is the added tension; you can see the elusive pumpkin thingys coming towards you; will you get them? Will someone else get them first? You don't like the look of that blonde in the green t -shirt, she looks like someone who enjoys the pumpkiner things in life. No! She has veered off and gone for the tuna roll! Brilliant! Dive! Get those pumpkin things of deliciousness! Hehehehehe....Success. Victory is ours! Huzzah!

Then comes the bill; if you have been daring enough to go for the kobe beef then you are going to pay for it...grey dishes are expensive, dammit! But then you feel the reassuring shape of your half price voucher in your pocket, and realise that you just got some beef that was fed on sake and beer for £2.50. Splendid.

Also, sushi is relatively healthy, so we pigged out to the point of exploding, whilst still feeling relatively self-righteous.

My friends, Prurient, Ginge101 and Red and Bitey (we discussed what their names should be over a nice bowl of miso soup, and these are what they requested), all had a lovely time, and it was fab to catch up. Prurient and I had taken another soujourn to the library, where once again I was unable to find the Terry Goodkind books I wanted. I adore the layout of the library, and the variety of sections is just fantastic. I do wish they would invest in some series though; I am yet to find Book One of any series I want to read! They have Book Three and Book Seven, bit of an eclectic mix! I picked up some nice vampire novels (my recent delving into the Twilight series having given me a taste for new blood, as it were, and Prurient was able to advise me), and Prurient picked up some lovely trash for her holiday to Ireland. Spiffy.

Back to Yo! Sushi. Whilst we were sitting trying to decide what to have, trying to match up what was on the belt to what we wanted, frantically thumbing through the menu, we noticed something that struck us as a bit weird. There were kids there. Kids about four or five, tucking into a nice bit of raw tuna on rice.

Now, it may just be that the world has gotten much smaller since we were young, and as a result acceptable cuisines have changed, but none of us could imagine our parents taking us to a sushi bar at that age. Indeed, Prurient pointed out that her parents would be unlikely to take her and her siblings to a sushi bar even now. Which I can understand; Father Eris, as much as I adore him, is not 100% sure why I enjoy eating raw fish so much. He can't comprehend why raw tuna is actually as nice as cooked tuna. He has the same sort of trauma with tapas; it is neither a seemly nor dignified way to eat. Knife and fork, that is the way to go. He would probably do it if we forced him to, but he would be traumatised. He is the person who cuts up their spaghetti rather than twirling it. You eat with a knife and fork, on an individual plate, at a table. End of story. There was a fantastic Moroccan restaurant in Exeter that he would have gone to and enjoyed, had it not been for the fact that you lounged on cushions at a low table to eat.

None of us could comprehend taking a child that small to a sushi bar. Nothing wrong with it, just...I don't know, it strikes me as a bit odd. Seeing a 4 year old blonde little girl chowing down on a bit of squid, or some raw salmon....How the times have changed since I was a lass!

I hate to jump on the recycling bandwagon, but I think I am going to anyway.

In my house we recycle anything we possibly can. Cans, plastic bottles, paper and compostable goods are all collected from our house in the fortnightly collections. However, because there are four adults and 3.5 cats in our house (we are in the process of adopting a stray), sometimes these collections are not enough, as we do produce a lot of recycling.

However, rather than whinge about it, we choose to be proactive. Every Sunday Mother Eris and I go to the supermarket, so in the same journey we load up the book of Mother Eris' car with all the plastic, cans, paper and cardboard that we have, and also all of the glass bottles and tin foil we have used (although it is less tin foil now, we use washable teflon baking sheets).

Then we have the task of finding a recycling bank. There are actually quite a few to choose from in Wycombe.

However.

The one by Morrisons is always, quite frankly, disgusting. People do not bother to actually put their recycling in the bins, but rather just leave it by the side. Which is ridiculous with clothes or cardboard. People there also indulge in the ridiculous habit of leaving their cars running while they do their recycling. Exactly how is this helpful?!

There are two in Hazlemere. One in a large car park, with many recycling bins, which would be fantastic were it not for the slightly dodgy public toilet in the car park. Mother Eris and I have often driven in there and driven straight out again upon seeing the people that emerge from these toilets, and what state they are in.

The one by Park Parade in Hazlemere is fab, but rather difficult to park in.

The real reason for this blog is, I suppose, to highlight the issues I have with the Morrisons recycling point. It is often nearly impossible to even get near the bins, as there is so much stuff dumped in front! It would be easy to blame the council, but the bins are always nearly empty when I go there; it appears to just be ignorance or laziness on the parts of the people supposedly 'doing their bit'.

Recycling should not be a burden; we need to all do our bit to make it easier for ourselves and others, whether it is doing something proactive by sorting out excess recycling we have ourselves, or simply putting our recycling in the right place. What is quite sad is that the people who dumped their recycling there probably think they are helping. But what use are clothes for the 3rd world that have been left out in the rain and are mouldy and rotting? How is it helpful to leave your car running while you put your bottles in the bottle bank? And what purpose does it serve to dump your paper and cardboard in front of the bins, rather than use the extra ten seconds it would take to actually place it inside? Do people perceive their time to be that precious that they can't spare the extra few moments it would take?

End rant.

Join me next time for the theatre!

In Bill Bryson's book 'Notes from a Big Country', he comments on the differences between the English and American postal services. Now, I don't have my copy to hand, so you will have to excuse me if I don't get these details exactly right. Mr Bryson writes of his local American Post Office's 'Customer Appreciation Day', at which they give him free doughnuts and coffee. 'Huzzah!' he thought, 'American post offices kick their English counterparts into touch! All this AND less queueing?! My life, it is complete!'. Until a letter was returned to him that he had posted three weeks earlier to a friend, care of the bookshop the friend worked in, in a small American town, with no street name, assuming that because the bookshop was very much a landmark of this town, the letter would arrive. As the old saying goes, never assume, because it.... well, I am sure you know the rest.

He goes on to cite an example of when he lived in England, and a letter received him through an 'impressive bit of sleuthing', which was merely addressed to 'Bill Bryson, Writer, Yorkshire Dales'.

You may be wondering what the point of my senseless wittering on the fantastic writings of Mr Bryson is. Well, since you asked so nicely, I shall tell you.

As I mentioned, last week it was my birthday. A friend of mine from Exeter, whom I don't see nearly often enough, sent me a message on Facebook on Monday, telling me she had sent me a present, but was now having doubts that she had sent it to the right address.

'Hi Eris,

I sent you a bday pressie, but I can't remember, do you live at number 18 or number 81?'

I live at (let's say) number 35. So how she got the random other numbers, I am not sure. So I messaged her back with my actual address, and a promise to wander down to number 18, where she had sent the present, and see if I could claime it.

The next morning, before I left for work, there was a knock on the door. Mother Eris opened it, and standing there was our postman. With a parcel addressed to me, at number 18. This fantastic man had recognised my name from other pieces of post sent to my address, and had realised this address must be a mistake. So he had gone the extra mile, rather than blindly delivering it to the address written, to check with the person he knew was named on the label.

Whilst my story does not compare to Mr Bryson's, it made me grin for the rest of the day.

Although maybe it says a worrying amount about how much I buy from M&S online, as he gave me a stern rebuke about making sure I enter my details correctly....

Next time on Eris' blog; recycling and supermarkets!*

*warning: Exact contents of blog may not be as advertised. If you are less than satisfied with the contents of your blog entry then please just smile and pretend you adore me. Alternatively, send questions on a postcard to Eris, Number 35, High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire. Please be advised that postcards sent to this address may not reach their intended recipient.