My home is junk-free but hoards are hiding in loft

The junk that people hold on to. I sit in disbelief that anyone can want to keep such ridiculous rubbish.

Why on earth do they need all that trash?

But more recently I was eating my words when I realised, I too, am a bit of a secret hoarder.

My shameful admission comes after a mammoth spring clean. Six years of: "I'll just stick it in the loft," has come back to haunt me. Big time.

Okay so let's get this into perspective. My home is clutter free and tidy. I don't have to climb over mounds of junk to get into my house. Or burrow through tunnels of rubbish to find my way to the kitchen. Or stumble across piles of the Express & Star dating back to the early 1990s. It isn't so bad that I am competing for air time on Channel 4's The Hoarder Next Door. And I'm not sure the words obsessive compulsive apply. But the loft well, that's a different story. After coming face-to-face with my past in all its dusty glory, I may well be a borderline case.

I can't be the only one. Hands up who has receipts dating back months, even years. Because you just never know. Shoes, books, magazines, DVDs, we're all guilty.

But as my practical and logical partner said: "You have to learn to let go." Indeed. But my retaliation is as always: "But you never know when you might need it."

I took his words of wisdom on board and I decided to listen to his voice of reason, it was the nudge I needed. I was ready to tackle the forgotten jumble of my life. I began the great ascent into my roof space with trepidation. I smuggled several black bin bags up with me to conceal any embarrassing items. After all I didn't want my other half thinking I'm some kind of crazy lady.

I had a vague idea of what was up there. A few boxes here. The odd suitcase there. Maybe a couple of mementos from my childhood. But no. Oh no. Nothing prepared me for the treasures I had stowed away.

It was pretty bad. Bags of old cards. School reports from the late 80s, make for interesting reading mind you. As do the diaries from my teens. What a colourful youth I had! Holiday journals from when I was young. There was no Wii or texting your mates back then, it was trips to the library and playing in the park.

One of my favourites was my book, Wilbur the Wizard, a rather lame attempt at writing a children's story in a bid to become rich and famous. But it's no Harry Potter and I'm no JK Rowling. More's the pity. But you never know. There was also relic of a step machine, rocks and fossils and my badge collection. What on earth was going on in my head?

But then I found some real treasures, my well-loved Care Bears, magazines that have gone out of circulation, old tapes (I mean as in actual cassettes as in before CDs then downloads took over the world). I even found an old walkman to play them on. My Sindy oven, in the box, which even makes authentic cooking noises. Oh the nostalgia. Some of these things really belong in a museum. Which is exactly why I've kept them.

My next key phrase: "They might be worth something one day." Kerching! In the future you might see me on Flog It! peddling my old tat. You'll be laughing on the other side of your face then Mr boyfriend. We could be rich!? I'll gladly let go of the rubbish but the rest I'm holding onto, they bring back happy memories and maybe, just maybe, they'll help top up my pension pot (wishful thinking I realise!). But, you just never know.

Read Lisa Williams' column first in the Weekend edition of the Express & Star.