Hello, my name’s Annette and I’m a hoarder.

Yes it’s out – I confess there are quite a number of things in my life I just can’t part with. You just never know when these things might be useful.

Actually I so do.

It’s normally exactly three days after you finally commit something to landfill after having allowed it drawer space for the past 15 years or so.

I manage to keep my hoarding pretty well hidden though. It’s not like you have to pick your way through empty pizza boxes to reach the sofa (well, not yet – but let’s just wait to see what surprises retirement may bring).

However, opening a cupboard door without warning is likely to result in a small avalanche erupting. It drives me mad.

I am getting slightly better with age though.

I have, for example, finally worked out that I don’t ever have to keep a single one of those strange unrecognisable plastic objects that I have absolutely no idea what it’s purpose in life might be.

It’s highly unlikely to be crucial to keeping the foundations of the house intact and can safely be disposed of.

What tends to be mostly packed in my cupboards and loft, and my biggest hoarding problem, is clothes.

I’m one of those people who tends to wear the same old things week after week but has numerous garments squashed into every spare space. It’s ridiculous.

I even still have a pair of tight (and these days they’d be really tight – enough to affect breathing) narrow leg, silver and black leopardskin trousers, passed onto me by a relative who bought them in London in the 70s.

Boy have those trousers partied over the decades.

However, the point of having them sitting for years in my loft is beyond me.

I also have clothing stashed that I have owned for years and have never ever worn. I convince myself that one day I am bound to wear that lilac and white stripy dress hanging there patiently.

What you won’t find anywhere though is a single garment from the 80s.

No one could ever possibly want to repeat those fashion disasters, I reasoned. Dungarees and huge shoulder pads were surely never going to make a comeback.

Of course I was wrong. Everything comes back eventually. But I was astounded to find boiler suits having the sheer audacity to make their way back to the clothes racks this summer I don’t regret not keeping any 80s gear. Walking around looking like a sorry excuse for an American football player once in a lifetime is enough for anyone.

Who knows, maybe 80s clothes are like olives and Guinness, you just have to keep trying them to like them.

But one thing for sure, I do need to finally sort out my hoarding tendencies to help keep intact the one thing that really will come in useful... my sanity.