After years of expat living, I’ve become a dab hand at disposing of stuff every time I move, so I start in each new home with the minimum of stuff. It’s quite cathartic. My daughter helps - she’ll pick something up and ask if I’ve used it in the last year. If the answer is no, it goes in the skip. I have one bookcase and a piano that always move with me, a couple of things that remind me of my Dad, my old teddy bear and some artworks, but that’s about it, and none of it has any monetary value, so can be chucked away when my time is up.