It was decided a couple of months back that we should make a concerted effort to tidy up our store, a mad place at a secret location in Edinburgh (left unpublished in case a dear reader decides to firebomb it as a vendetta). We have all of our costumes, all of our set, innumerable pieces of furniture, sacks of curtains, racks of shoes, shelves of hats and shelves and shelves of props in there.

It's a veritable Aladdin's cave - or would be if it weren't cold, dimly lit, featuring a crumbling ceiling that once shed concrete that narrowly missed my head, riddled with moths on the costume mezzanine, featuring a house mouse on the ground floor and thickly coated throughout with 20 odd years of dust. And currently stacked so highly to the gunnells that it's almost impossible for poor dear Andy to do anything much in it in the way of constructing new things.

So the decision was taken. After some to-ing, the skip was booked for a week yesterday and this weekend was set aside for clearing, cutting and preparing.

I approached the weekend with trepidation, more than slightly resentful at the thought of spending much weekend after a wild week at work in the place of dinginess. And I couldn't even attend the full shift as yesterday afternoon was given over to celebrating Miriam's seventh birthday. But it meant I had to rise up unseasonably early yesterday and again today, with much muttering and grumbling to myself, and off I set across town.

The fact that I'm writing this at whatever time in the early afternoon is tribute to the fact that excellent headway was made. Yesterday morning, I wildly threw loads of props - after careful selection by Brian and Fiona - into surrounding bins. So the bin men shall find a golden papier mache cherub amongst the usual urban detritus on collection day. Russell, completely beyond the reasonable realms of duty, helped Andy and Sue and Ross and Jo, sawing and cutting and dismantling wooden items.

And they adjourned for lunch and I sloped off to the shower and then the party.

Today a smaller faithful crew met. Andy, Sue, Lorraine and Brian sawed and sorted. Iain and Gillian and I played tetris with the furniture, uncovering the most disgusting and delapidated chaise longue that you could ever hope to see. Along with what they tell me is called a radiogram which surely would fetch a bit of money if it went to the right home. It's been used once in one show and god knows of course we might need it at some point again so back against the (never been seen before - by me at any rate) fireplace against the back wall. I wish I had used it to add to the junk and clutter in Private View but of course it's been buried til now under 15 years of chairs but now can rise to show itself on stage another day.

And by this point, so much was heaped up to be skipped next weekend that we felt (well, I admit to leading the discussion as I could ill be bothered to spend an afternoon there too) we'd be better to reconvene when the space was all nicely freed up. So off we went homeward bound.

And actually, having dreaded this weekend all week, I've had a lovely time with some lovely people doing this great good work. I've also at last returned a sack of stuff that I've been storing in my house taken from the secret store nigh on two and a half years ago. We must contrast my cavalier skip-happy attitude with poor dear Andy bidding farewell to thirty years of imagination and woodcraft. So I salute his ongoing efforts and endeavours. And thank you to all that helped. Very much appreciated. A fine dusty start to 2009.