FINALLY, after years of procrastination, I had decided to clear out my wardrobes and drawers which were bursting at the seams with items I had been hoarding for years.

"I'll help you," offered my daughter Jenna. "You'll only shuffle stuff about from one cupboard to another."

How well she knows me - because that's exactly what I've been doing for years.

So, after a cup of tea, we climbed the stairs to my bedroom to begin the mammoth task.

"Right. This set of bin bags is for the charity shop" ordered Jenna.

"And this set of bin bags is for the car boot sale.

"Remember, mum?" she sarcastically reminded me. "That's the car boot sale you've been having for the last 10 years."

I nodded, as she was undoubtedly right. The intention had always been there.

However, the prospect of getting up at 6am on a Sunday morning and standing all day at a car boot sale never did appeal to me.

Jenna started lifting various items of clothing out of my wardrobe and it didn't take her very long before the ridiculing began.

"Seriously mum?" she squawked in a high pitched voice.

"Even if you were slim enough to get into these ..." she sneered while holding up my favourite burgundy leather trousers.

"Even if you could get into them, where do you think you could wear them?"

"Em. Well ..." I floundered, desperately trying to find the answer.

"Mum," she interrupted. "They went out of fashion years ago."

I was still unconvinced that there wasn't a flicker of life left in my favourite trousers. But Jenna was adamant.

"In the bag, mum," she commanded. "In the bag."

Noticing my continued reluctance as I hovered over the bag, she intervened again.

"Mum, even if you could get into them ..." she was losing patience.

"Even if by some miracle," she continued, "they came back into fashion - I'm going to be honest, and you may not like what I have to say, but ... you're too old for them."

This theme of tactless cruelty continued throughout the day as the bin bags got bigger and my wardrobe and ego got smaller.

"But..." I heard myself protest throughout the day.

And the more I protested the harsher the comments.

"A mini dress? Seriously? A mini dress?" she said sounding more and more like my mother as she stuffed one item after another into a bin bag.

"A mini dress? It's more like a pelmet."

I watched helplessly as my past life was discarded into bin bags like an old dog being put to sleep.

"Thanks for your help," I said waving her goodbye.

Later, sitting in my bedroom surrounded by a mountain of bin bags, nostalgia was getting the better of me and in a moment of weakness I sneaked my burgundy leather trousers back out of the bag and into my wardrobe.

I smiled as I thought: "She's right. I am too big for them. And I am too old for them. But it won't hurt to dig them out now and then after a few glasses of wine and reminisce."

THE saga of the 5p carrier bag charge continues. Everywhere I go people still seem to be irked in some way or another about the new charge.

On arrival at a dinner party on Saturday night, we went into the kitchen to give our dinner hosts gifts of wine, chocolates and flowers etc, when Christine, on emptying her carrier bag, unashamedly piped up: "Can I have my bag back please?"

We all laughed, thinking she was trying to be funny.

But no. The second our host Amanda unpacked the wine and savouries, Christine reached out and swiped the carrier bag from her hand, folded it neatly and put it back into her handbag.

It seems the bag madness it seems is taking an ever more firm hold.

Christine's actions started another exchange of carrier bag tales.

Cammy, another of the guests, was telling us how he had taken his teenage son Jordan into Glasgow clothes shopping that afternoon.

"We were in Ted Baker, which is one of Jordan's favourite shops," explained Cammy.

"And, after looking through the array of clothes, he finally chose a new jumper and shirt."

According to Cammy, Jordan was beaming from ear to ear admiring his new attire at the till when the shop assistant asked the dreaded question" Would you like a 5p carrier bag?"

And just as Jordan nodded, faster than lightning, his dad butted in: "Nope, it's OK. I've brought one with me."

And quicker than Paul Daniels pulling a rabbit out of a hat, Cammy plucked a plastic Farmfoods bag from his pocket.

"'Here you go'," he said as he handed it to the shop assistant.

"Jordan was mortified," laughed Cammy.

That poor boy, I thought. I bet his new designer shirt and jumper didn't look nearly as 'designer' in a Farmfoods bag.