In any ordinary organisation they'd hang onto the stuff or chuck it out or something. Not here: everyone's so worried that they'll be held to account for every pennyweight of dirt and the bags besides that they've sent it back to Helminthdale to be on the safe side.
Just at this point I pop my head over the filing cabinet.
"Haven't you got this place cleared out for T.Aldous' sofas yet?"
"Don't talk to me about bloody sofas."
I think he needs his lunch.