There are five levels of clutter in this house. Level one is the 'Everyday Clutter' - the needless rubbish that gathers in my handbag, pockets, kitchen worktops, coffee tables. Sunday paper supplements, unravelled dental floss, the dust of shells and small pine cones, paid bills, not-quite-ready-for-the-bin bits and bobs that stand in the way of my putting my hands on the things I really need, like cash, and unpaid bills and passports.

Then there is level two. The 'Immediate Storage' drawers. There are at least two of these - full - in each room of our house where I put things that I use every day. A mish-mash of coins, packets of tissues, night lights - things that I would and should be using every day, if I thought to look in the drawers where these things are gradually stockpiling instead of forgetting where they are and buying them again. (Tins and condiments are the worst. I currently have six bottles of white balsamic vinegar, four large tins of pears and, annoyingly, I never stockpile things that I actually need, like ketchup or tinned tomatoes. ) I'll speed along. Level three: 'Out of the Way' - this is the 'useful' stuff which I never actually use and which has to be kept out of my husband's eyeline or he will ceremoniously burn it while I am asleep.

Foot-spas, camping equipment still in the box, bin liners full of fabric scraps - which I will some day sew into cushions - and air-beds, in case our entire extended family ever descends upon us at the same time and all the local B&Bs are booked.

In order of descending dreadfulness, level four is the penultimate layer of clutter hell. The 'Vincent de Paul bags' - these are things which I intend to give to the charity shop but which still need to be sorted. Jigsaws and expensive kids' toys with bits that may or may not be missing but I will have to assemble to find out. Bags - and I mean a vast bin liner mountain of plastic bags here - full of grownin/out-of discarded clothes which I cannot yet pass on because they need to be folded/dry-cleaned and may possibly contain a jumper which my sister once admired and I must get around to asking her if she still wants.

And so we reach level five. The attic. Until last week 'the attic' did not exist. So I pretended that I wanted it insulated and got a ladder and a bit of a floor put in while I was at it so that now all of the unused rubbish in my life is literally hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles.

What I long for is clarity. A capsule wardrobe, a minimalist house, an organised schedule and a clear head with which to do my work, love my family and enjoy my life. And it's not like I don't throw out MOUNTAINS of stuff every year. It's just that I acquire more with a speed that overwhelms me. It is with some shame that I have finally come to realise that - for all my good intentions at being environmentally friendly, I am little more than a huge hunk of landfill made flesh.

The reversal process is simple - stop buying pointless, worthless crap that I don't need and I will not only save time, money and the environment but might also fulfil a lifetime ambition of my own. One allocated drawer for everyday bits so I can find a box of matches and a bloody pen when I need one!