RETURN to Gifford’s Circus after a two-year absence and am delighted to see that some things have not changed. Tweedy the clown and the fiddle playing tightrope walker are still wowing the crowds and as always the lines between surrealism and reality are heavily blurred.

Anything goes with Gifford’s and even the sight of grown men in velvet shorts with a trim seems acceptable.

Back at the house we are having a clear out. If Gifford’s performers can fit all their possessions in a caravan then surely we can lose some of our excess baggage.

Children have de-cluttered their rooms and held a bric-a-brac sale in the front garden in aid of the RSPCA.

Worried that no one will come and they will make just 5p for all their hard work I take the precaution of phoning a few mums and asking them to nonchalantly drop by, as if they were just passing. Never mind that our road is a dead end and no one just passes by unless they have a dog in tow.

Thrilled children make £25 for charity plus one euro and eat their body weight in the sweets and cakes that are left over.

My turn to de-clutter and I can feel husband circling around our extra freezer.

It has been one year since I convinced him that we just had to buy a friend's old freezer for our garage to hold the excess crop.

"Just think of the year-round supply of fruit and veg that we’ll have," I said.

Told husband to imagine the following scene: "Ooh I fancy a crumble tonight darling," would be followed by a quick dash to the garage and a "Ta Da" flourish as wife returned brandishing the pudding of his dreams.

In reality, the allotment has barely delivered enough fruit and veg to fill a plate and my fantasy of freezing the excess has been exposed as pure folly.

Freezer has not got much to do and sits idle shivering in a dusty corner working over time keeping cold one bag of french beans, a red puree that could either be tomato or plum and a few bread rolls.

My life as mistress of a household with two freezers is coming to an end.