Much as I dismiss the tests, the fact that I wasn’t a Finisher does actually seem to have held some water. We’ve come a long way in the last few years. The contents of our house must have at least halved. We’re nearly at the point we want to be with all our stuff. Ok, so we’ll never achieve the 100 things challenge, but to be honest that’s not really what we’re about. As long as the stuff we’re surrounded with is of use or value (by which I mean it means something to us), we’re happy. And when I said “nearly” I really meant it. We’re so close! Yet there are things around that just keep us from feeling like we’ve got there. The bits.

You know how it goes, you sort out all your stuff and there’s this box left at the end. It’s stuff you don’t really think you want but then again you’re a bit slow to get rid of it. It’s stuff you can’t bring yourself to just give away. It’s stuff you need to find time to make decisions about. In the meantime it’s sitting there. The box. It represents all those unfinished projects (you know, that “To Do” list that you keep re-writing with a new date at the top). It gets in the way. I have to move it around every time we have guests in the spare room. I have to look at it at some point every day. Occasionally I remove the contents and shuffle them around a bit and put them back in. It’s on my mind. Sometimes it even makes me a bit nuts and I have a rant about getting something done about it. Sometimes I try and shift the blame and get Simon to sort his stuff in the hope that it will give me the motivation to sort mine. Deep down I know I just need to FINISH it.

Can I step outside my personality type? What lies on the other side of project Reduce Stuff? There’s only one way to find out.

It’s interesting what the Western world views as having nothing. Being a Westerner myself I’m all too aware of what the presenter meant. Part of me has an ingrained reflex that blindly accepts the concept. I almost can’t help thinking, ‘Hmm…you’re right. Those people have nothing.’ Except this time my knee-jerk reaction was followed by a bit more consideration.

What these people didn’t have, I suppose, was a television. Or a mobile phone. Or even electricity for that matter. They didn’t even have running water. Oh sure, they had close-knit families, they made their own alcohol and sat around in the evenings talking with friends. They ate fresh food, freshly prepared. They were healthy. Oh, and they were spiritually fulfilled. But not one of them had an iPhone.

It served as a reminder of how far away from minimalist nirvana we are. Yes, there’s an obvious response. Maybe those people would have liked a bit more than nothing. Their lifestyle wasn’t a choice – they were genuinely poor. These criticisms are not unfounded. It’s galling to hear a middle-class Westerner talking about how lucky people are that have nothing at all. But, there was something about their lifestyle that drew you in and made you long for something else.

I guess what most people struggle with when they try to live a minimalist lifestyle is the fact that it is about reduction. They need to get rid of things. This process brings its own rewards but it can never bring about the kind of appreciation for what we have that starting with nothing gives us. When we have nothing, everything we gain can be cherished.

So, when we really think about our possessions and what matters so much we just have to own it, it’s helpful to start from the point of view of nothing. Then, all we need to remember is that the nothing we’re referring to is life itself.

So where do I go from here? I have to say the “where would we put it” argument was lame. It certainly isn’t the reason I don’t buy her everything she sees that she likes and I don’t want her to think that. If we lived in a huge mansion I wouldn’t buy her everything. It isn’t about money either. If we had all the money in the world I still wouldn’t buy her everything. So how do I explain it without just sounding plain old mean.

Here’s what I tried and the conversation that followed….

Well, do you remember your birthday?
Yes, I got loads of presents
Can you tell me what you got?
Um, some toys and games.
I mean, exactly, tell me exactly what you got?
I can’t remember.
Well, maybe that’s because you got so many presents.
I did.
Do you think if you had got just one, very special present (and I don’t mean one that cost a lot or was really big, just something you really, really wanted), you would have remembered?
Yes.
So, if I bought you all the things you see in the shops that you like, would it be special or would you just forget about them?
I’d forget.
Would it be better to just have a few special things that you really, really like and really use?
That would be good.

Did I manipulate that? Of course. Did she get it? I hope so. At least she hasn’t asked for a load of plastic crap since and believe me, there seems to be plastic crap everywhere we look.

It’s hard to teach our kids about restraint. That’s not to say our kids miss out. Every day I seem to have to excavate our house out from under all the stuff they’ve been playing with. But we can at least go out without being nagged to buy things. They enjoy looking but not needing to take it with us. How long can this continue? Who knows. School is just around the corner, peer pressure, pocket money. There may be trouble ahead….

Can you? Help yourself? Are we that weak and easily led? I can’t hold myself up as an example of someone who isn’t tempted by those impulse buys of course. Clearly, with a history of debt to my name, I succumbed to many a trip into town for something and returned home with quite a few somethings. But was it my fault or could I just “not help myself”?

I’d love to think the whole sorry affair was down to someone or something much bigger and cleverer than me. I’d love to think that no matter how I tried there was just no way I could resist. But if I can manage to go into town now, with the lessons I’ve had to learn still ringing loudly in my ears, and come home with nothing more than I actually went for, why couldn’t I do it before? And why can’t the women whose conversation I wandered in to?

Part of me puts it down to excellent marketing. And I do honestly think that those folks out there touting their wares at us know exactly which buttons to press to get us reaching for our credit cards. But that’s really just a cop out. It allows me to be weak and blame someone else. I really think its down to thinking. I hope I live life in a much more thoughtful way these days. It’s taken a lot of bad decisions and mistakes to get here but maybe I needed to go through them to end up where I am. I know those impulse buys won’t make the slightest bit of difference to my state of mind (whatever it may be) once I get home. I know those lovely things that really did look so lovely in the shop will fill me, not with happiness, but with a kind of sapping emptiness once they are hanging in my closet or sitting on a shelf. I know my bank balance won’t look as rosy as it could. And I think about all those things.

I wonder too if you never have a thinking kind of moment in life and you never stop and wonder about all that stuff you buy if you can just be happy like that. Maybe those women were completely happy with life and with their impulsive shopping. Maybe you are either the kind of person who stops and thinks about it and then does something or the kind who never really thinks about it at all (and I guess there must be some in-betweeners who stop and think about it then carry on regardless). I’m not suggesting either is right or wrong and I’d never suggest that those who love to shop are poor saps who could never be happy because they haven’t found enlightenment. I hope those two women got home and were fabulously happy with their new stuff and weren’t left thinking, as I often did, “oh”.

Naomi may not have spent too much time deliberating over selling her guitar but I’ve got to the point now where I’m having to actually list my turntables on ebay. In more confident moments I’ve taken photos of them and thought about shipping options. In times of doubt I’ve gone back to my records and thought about throwing myself back into the world of shopping for vinyl and DJing at friends’ parties.

But here’s the thing: it really is a world. Almost every hobby or leisure pursuit is its own little ecosystem. It has magazines dedicated to it. You can meet other like-mined people on the internet. There’s the right way to do everything and the way that brings you scorn (woe-betide anyone who tries to open the plastic wrapper on a new record without having first frantically rubbed the edge on their jeans). And, of course, with that world comes even more stuff. It spreads from your single pursuit until every room has some element of it.

Maybe it only happens to a certain type of person but I’ve had my fair share of obsessions over the years. From playing music to making it. Mountain biking. Rock climbing. Watches. They all spread. So, much of what I’ve been selling these past few months is the fallout from these little obsessions (some not so little) and there’s been a natural order. We’re down to the brass tacks now. Will I do these things again or has the time past?

For me the time has past as far as superstar DJ status goes. That’s not to say that I feel to old to do it or that I don’t think I’m that good at it. What it does mean is that I don’t have the time or drive to obsess over it anymore and the stuff that goes with it is just going to waste. Someone else could fire their passion with it.

Having a family makes us really focused on time and my family is my biggest obsession. After that comes my work and then after that comes my interests. With so much demanding, and deserving attention, my interests need to be really important to me. I have to decide, where I have a choice, what I’m going to obsess over. Well, I’ve done that now. The decision is made. I can get rid of the reminders of previous flirtations with a clean conscience and get on with throwing myself into the things I really care about. It’s quite liberating. Although I have, recently, been thinking I might like to try my hand at surfing…

Historically there have been regimes that sought to purge the world of various forms of literature and for many cultures, the very idea of losing their books might seen unthinkable. Attachments to books can be hard to break, but, for the vast majority of the population isn’t it just sentimentality?

As parents we cling to the belief that a home filled with books is an important catalyst for bringing up educated and informed children. After all, most people seem to be aware of the statistical evidence that backs up this belief. I’m particularly wary of statistics, however, and I imagine that this particular evidence falls into the same category as that which is used in ads here – people who eat a healthy breakfast tend to be slimmer and healthier than people who eat no breakfast.

Contrary to what the makers of breakfast cereals want you to believe, it doesn’t mean that their product will make you slimmer and healthier. What it means is that people who live a healthy lifestyle (which is more likely to include a healthy breakfast) will be slimmer and healthier. That’s not exactly ground-breaking research.

I think it’s the same with the children and books idea. It’s not that having books in the house will make your children brainier, it’s just that having lots of books is a sign of well-read parents. And their children will probably share the same values. Book ownership is just an indicator, not the cause.

So, why else might we hang on to our books? They bring back memories. Couldn’t that be said about many possessions? We’ll read them again. Will you? With all the books being published every day, how many of the ones you’ve already read are you going to go back to? I might need to look something up. Please. Haven’t you heard of the internet?

Purging books is, of course, music to the ears of the e-reader sellers. They want you to give them up. They want the last bastion of an analogue lifestyle to be conquered. But are they right? Is it just pig-headedness to moan about the demise of the printed word? I had similarly conflicting emotions when I moved from film to digital photography. I came up with all sort of reasons why film was better, more “authentic”. Since getting a D-SLR, however, I wonder what the hell I was thinking. It will be the same with books. The possibilities that come from digitising literature are enormous and we’ve not even scratched the surface yet.

Does this mean I’m going to be ruthless? Well, don’t expect me to lead by example. There’s a deep attachment to books that’s hard to break. Bookshops are still like candy-stores to me. But I can’t help thinking that books are just another possession, the only difference being that it’s a cinch to find excuses for buying unlimited quantities of them. So, let’s have an amnesty. You go first.

About a month ago an elderly neighbour died. She had been a bit of a fixture in the street, always sitting in her front garden. She grew plants in those little disposable milk pots and always pulled a wicker trolley around with her full of old newspapers. Her house is in a state of disrepair and it was known that she was a bit of a hoarder. Her death was greeted with sadness and some discussion about the future of her home. It didn’t take long for a white lorry marked “Bio-Hazard Clearance” to pull up outside and a team of people in white boiler suits and masks to begin the job of clearing out all her stuff. So far about 20 lorry loads have been taken away and they are only half way through.

We once lived, accidentally and only for a few days, with a similar hoarder. Someone who couldn’t throw away anything. He piled his stuff up in his room, filled it full to bursting, and had a small space to sleep in, like a nest, just under the ceiling. His door would only just open enough for him to squeeze in and climb the wall of newspapers and blankets and bags and clothes and bits and pieces, up on to the top to sleep, or occasionally to hammer something….

We don’t know what became of him as we moved out rather quickly, but in the case of our neighbour, her hoarding ended with her death and her family bringing in the professionals. I wonder what all the stuff meant to her? I wonder if she valued it or if it overwhelmed her? Did her house, full of stuff, make her feel safe? Maybe it was just a gradual thing and we could all become hoarders.

I guess the key is to keep addressing your stuff and be realistic. It’s a question of balance – keep the things that have meaning, that make your home feel like home, are genuinely useful, but be honest with yourself about the rest. Are you really going to watch all those DVD’s again? Read those novels again? Or in our house, actually use all those hifi components, bags, mobile phones, bits of old technology. What has stopped us getting rid of it all before? Even now, as we car boot and ebay and bag stuff up for charity shops I feel nervous I am going to miss this stuff I never use and regret parting with it. Once it is gone though, I can’t even remember what it all was and life seems so much better without it.

The counter-view, of enlightenment through self-denial, is not a glamorous concept (especially its poster-boy, the emaciated old man on the mountain). There is a weird kind of paradox here, though, which has at its heart the crushing realisation that discipline and denial are what really lead to fulfillment and happiness.

Trying to circumvent this harsh lesson is what’s led us to celebrity diets, low-fat foods, electrically-stimulating toning pads, engineered corsetry, fat-absorption tablets, stomach-stapling and having your jaws wired shut. I mean, everyone knows (surely?) that eating sensibly and exercising is the way to maintain a healthy weight. And, to get back to the food shopping, planning and control can get you to really think about what you eat, in a good way, while filling your basket with whatever takes your fancy can just make you feel a bit lost.

So, if we know this, if we know deep down that discipline and denial are the ways to achieve many of the things we want to achieve, how is it that we still can’t do it? The simple fact is this: however much you want the end result, the reality of the here-and-now is a stronger force than the mental image of the reward. And there are even greater forces at work. Anyone who’s ever smoked will know that it’s the miserable reality of giving up that gets to you. The idea is great, but giving up smoking means spending every day, for the rest of your life, not smoking. Continuing to smoke is as easy as lighting a cigarette.

Using discipline and denial as routes to achieving the kind of life we want takes a particular mindset. That’s not to say that the mindset can’t be cultivated, but it takes hard work. And you really have to want it.

Here is the contents of one of the boxes we just unpacked:

• A blank memorandum and articles of association (may be useful one day…)
• An empty tupperware box with no lid (lid may be found then it might be useful)
• A half full / empty zip up case with office bits and bobs in – stapler, scissors etc (never useful but a Xmas present so feel bad ditching it)
• A kid’s “Lets Dance” music tape
• A pile of birthday and other cards from the last year or so
• Some tangled cables and chargers (oh there are lots and lots and lots of those in our house….)
• Case for a mobile phone we no longer own
• A cheque book for an account I no longer have
• A bulb for a super 8 projector
• A few old watches

We also own an electric guitar, a mountain bike or two, lots of stereo stuff in duplicate, an inexplicable number of camera bags and old phones. None of which we ever use.

The list goes on. We have started to take drastic action to reduce the stuff. It doesn’t just clutter up our house, it clutters up our life, holds us back and makes everything take longer because we can never find anything. It has also cost a lot of money, but more about that another day. So the first step has been to start to sort it out with the result that, like an unwanted lodger, most of it will be leaving our house in one way or another.  The first batch has been sold on ebay (with several more to go), the second batch is going to a car boot sale today. Another pile is steadily growing for the local charity shops.

At the same time we need change our thinking. Stop buying new stuff. Not so hard recently, not sure why. Can we stop wanting stuff? Well, I don’t expect we will reach Nirvana but we might achieve our own kind of enlightenment. Ommmmmm.