The Junk Room
It wasn't always so.
Our “junk room” wasn’t always the junk room.
In days gone by, it was our parent’s bedroom. It was where six of us were conceived and spent at least the first year of our lives. Back then it was always tidy, orderly. Double bed in the middle of the room. Mum and dad wardrobes. Dad’s one contained a couple of guns he’d brought back from his time in the Korean war. Locked away in a…