I admit it. I have a problem: I’m a hoarder. I like to keep anything and everything I get my hands on. I’m sentimental – be it a plane ticket stub from a dreamy holiday or a perfectly shaped stone that reminds me of a walk on a beautiful spring day, I will keep it. And I seem to have married someone who is exactly the same. The result being that our house is full of things we just can’t bring ourselves to throw away but don’t quite have a place. The solution: the annual memory jar.