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Have you got a hubbie who hordes? A man, who can’t manage to throw a thing away, who stock piles receipts, keeps a collection of corduroys’, even though, whenever he tries to escape the house wearing them, you refuse to even let him leave the bedroom. Who can disappear up into the loft, like a modern day Mr Ben, to jump back down, SAS style, transformed in his very own ‘Ken outfit’, army fatigues circa 1974, for a paint balling day out with pals? Well I am married to a man who fits this description, not that he still fits into many of the above, those camouflage trousers did not hide anything!

So a few weeks ago, something started waging war in his wardrobe. It started with a small hole in a lilac t shirt, which left him puzzled, trying to work out if it was MY washing again, or was there a more sinister problem lurking in the dark recesses of his overcrowded cupboard. His feelings of unease were further compounded, when he pulled out a pale blue cashmere jumper, part of his “sale bargain pale blue cashmere flock,” that has grown in recent years to an alarming teetering pile, and found TWO tiny holes on the left sleeve. Now he recognized his enemy, a dreaded “moth” attack had flown in to finally finish off the clothes that I haven’t managed to sneak off to the charity shop (yippee). He panicked; the history of his life could be chewed away (do moths chew?) Jumpers, shirts, suits were under threat, his wardrobe was under siege and he had to do the manly thing and exterminate the buggers.

The first thing I knew about it was when I climbed wearily into bed and noticed a strange smell. I sniffed, was it the new body cream I had treated myself to? – It certainly didn’t pong like that in the shop – no – so where was it coming from? It finally hit me, when hubbie opened his cupboard door and I was nearly knocked out with the smell, “age” “What have you done?” I said as I emerged from hiding under the duvet, with a pillow covering my nose looking accusingly at hubbie. Have you ever seen a hubbie go red, even in the lamp light, standing in only his boxers and holding his pyjamas aloft unable even for him – who has not got an acute sense of smell to put them on – “MOTHBALLS” we both said at once

He covered his nose and retrieved the offending mothballs, under strict orders, shouted from his superior officer, which would be me, to dispose of the offending articles quick march.

Luckily for him I knew where to look to solve this problem and it wasn’t in his cupboard, to find something that would stop the MOTH menace. No I didn’t go to Moth Bros (sorry bad joke) but to Caraselle (thank goodness for Google) they had the perfect solution, a pong free cedar wood moth deterrent and lovely lilac smellies to turn his old clothes back into clothes that are moth ball fragrance free. Just think I have now saved a whole troop of trousers and squadrons of shirts by turning to Caraselle and I didn’t even have to wear army fatigues to do it.

Georgie Tarn

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