Despite what others might say, I am not a collector.

I mean, you casually say that you like teapots and suddenly, every birthday and Christmas, it’s a teapot! Pink tea pots, red tea pots, vintage 70s matching tea and coffee pots. There was even an exquisite early 20th-century suffragette teapot, which, by the way, I was more than happy to receive. Still, despite owning several, I do not collect teapots.

Nor do I collect wool, though to the untrained eye, it may look like I do. The wool that I do have, and admittedly, there is a lot of it, but this wool has been bought with a specific project in mind. Yes, there might be the odd ball (or sack) bought because of its yummy colour or tantalising texture, but that’s not a collection, that’s a stash.

The same goes for fabric. And notebooks. And biscuits.

I don’t know why it bothers me so much that people might think I collect things.  Is it the faint whiff of stamps and anoraks that puts me off? A collection smacks of creepy dolls and lace doilies or postcards neatly lined up on racks. There is order, purpose and a certain level of record keeping with a collection.

That doesn’t sound like me…

I quite like the idea of a doll’s house. I have a beautiful 70s Lumby up on the wall. It is beyond me how I ended up with several, none of which I ever bought.

I really liked this little ceramic house; the kind you put a candle in, and the lights twinkle through the windows. At least I did until everyone suddenly bought them for me, and my house turned into a twinkling ceramic metropolis.

I do not collect things. I do not want every one of the set. I do not want it in matching colours or designs. I do not collect things.

But then, the Mister reminds me, there’s the issue of the TARDIS.

It is hardly an issue! Yes, I have several. (What is the name for a gathering of TARDIS? Is there a plural of TARDIS? It can’t be TARDI!)

Look, no one is denying that I have several TARDIS. It’s on record that I am a huge Doctor Who fan, so obviously, I would have a TARDIS shower curtain. And who wouldn’t want a 70s diecast model of the TARDIS with their first Doctor – Tom Baker, in this case.  Why don’t I have a life-size TARDIS in my garden?

Anyway, each TARDIS is different, so that’s hardly a collection.

Some are official and some are more interpretive.

Yes, my wheelchair shed is painted Tardis blue, but that is hardly adding to a collection, more like a homage to all things Who.

I will even concede that I have and love other Whovian artefacts. Nothing can beat my handmade copy of River Songs Diary.  Or the 1982 Doctor Who Annual with press-out Dalek models. And I love a sonic screwdriver, what woman doesn’t?

But a collection implies them all lined up on a dedicated shelf! There is nothing wrong with that. You do you. If you want to collect things, then go mad, lick all the stamps.

But I am not a collector.

I know that being ‘a collector’ would make gift giving easier for everyone, as apparently I’m impossible to buy for.  (See the next post for more on this slander.) But this only works if the gift receiver actively wants to collect.

Years ago, I met a woman with a house full of wooden mice. They were everywhere, like an infestation.  Her husband got her one for every occasion. She’d hundreds of them, a measure of her hubby’s devotion and lack of imagination. She loathed mice, but once they hit a certain critical mass, it became impossible to say.

I’m not that polite.

Mind, I’m not ruling out more TARDIS, because there are still some, I’ve yet to collec…erm, acquire?

If you want to send me a TARDIS or two, it would be rude to say no.

But don’t be buying me any old tat with a Tardis on.

I want specific tat, that I have yet to define…with a Tardis on.

My not-collection has standards to maintain.

For more of my wise and funny nonsense, you can pre-order my book at all bookshops. Release February 2026

https://linktr.ee/chopsymayajordan