Regular readers will remember how much I hate packing. It is time. I've been putting it off all day and I can't put it off any longer.
We leave tomorrow morning (before breakfast), back to London to visit the Professors again, I'm afraid (wish me luck).
I am a tiny bit concerned that Ratty will do another mystery-disappearing act, but as we will only be away for a week, I hope he stays put. We've spent the day bonding.
Having broken the ice with Elisabeth in Melbourne during January, I am now feeling brave: if you happen to be in London over the next week and have a spare afternoon, let me know and perhaps we can meet up for a cup of tea or coffee.
Lent or not, I'll be having p*rk sausages for breakfast on Saturday!
x
Showing posts with label packing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label packing. Show all posts
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Cats can see into the future!
I have always suspected that cats had powers we mere humans could not comprehend: they can hear a refrigerator door open at 100m; they can identify those who are uncomfortable around felines and head straight for them; they can leap huge walls at a single bound; and they can see into the future. My cats can see into the future and DO NOT like what they see.
I haven't taken my suitcase out of the cupboard, nor have I made little piles of things I mustn't forget. I haven't packed my sunblock and hat -- I haven't even wrapped the presents, but THEY know, and they are grumbling.
Ratty won't leave my side. Usually he doesn't venture up the stairs as Mr Macc and Miss Ming have ruled the bedrooms out of bounds to interloper cats. This morning Ratty came up and joined me while I was having my bath. I was wallowing in luxury - my last bath for three weeks as timed showers are the order of the day in Australia. Ratty came bouncing in yeowlling. 'There you are! I've been looking for you! Why did you leave me by myself?' And so on. If he crept in quietly and sat beside the bath like Ming does, nobody would have noticed except me. No, Ratty has a fanfare everywhere he goes and the 'parent cats' were not amused.
After I got dressed and I began to tidy the bedroom - you know putting away shoes that have been lying about for a week, and jackets that won't be worn for another six weeks - Ratty was everywhere. In the cupboards, helping me with my knapsack, spooking himself in the mirror and finally leaping onto the bed (first time since the meltdown). Then he followed me into my study which is Ming Central while I found another Christmas card to write, and he jumped up on Macc's chair, while Ming peered around the edge of the curtain at him, disapproval screaming across her whiskers.
I haven't begun to pack. That mountain is looming before me.
They know I will begin soon. Tonight we leave for Australia and family Christmas. I hate packing. I hate travelling. I shudder to think what size my carbon footprint is. We will eat far too much and spend far too much and we will come back from our 'holiday' exhausted.
Rest assured the cats will be well cared for in my absence. As well as my domestic assistant who will be in charge of day to day care, I have a roster of friends organised to cope with emergencies.
I hope you all have happy and peaceful Christmases (or appropriate festivities if you don't partake of Christmas). I've enjoyed your company while in exile and hope to see you all (virtually at least) in the new year.
x
I haven't taken my suitcase out of the cupboard, nor have I made little piles of things I mustn't forget. I haven't packed my sunblock and hat -- I haven't even wrapped the presents, but THEY know, and they are grumbling.
Ratty won't leave my side. Usually he doesn't venture up the stairs as Mr Macc and Miss Ming have ruled the bedrooms out of bounds to interloper cats. This morning Ratty came up and joined me while I was having my bath. I was wallowing in luxury - my last bath for three weeks as timed showers are the order of the day in Australia. Ratty came bouncing in yeowlling. 'There you are! I've been looking for you! Why did you leave me by myself?' And so on. If he crept in quietly and sat beside the bath like Ming does, nobody would have noticed except me. No, Ratty has a fanfare everywhere he goes and the 'parent cats' were not amused.
After I got dressed and I began to tidy the bedroom - you know putting away shoes that have been lying about for a week, and jackets that won't be worn for another six weeks - Ratty was everywhere. In the cupboards, helping me with my knapsack, spooking himself in the mirror and finally leaping onto the bed (first time since the meltdown). Then he followed me into my study which is Ming Central while I found another Christmas card to write, and he jumped up on Macc's chair, while Ming peered around the edge of the curtain at him, disapproval screaming across her whiskers.
I haven't begun to pack. That mountain is looming before me.
They know I will begin soon. Tonight we leave for Australia and family Christmas. I hate packing. I hate travelling. I shudder to think what size my carbon footprint is. We will eat far too much and spend far too much and we will come back from our 'holiday' exhausted.
Rest assured the cats will be well cared for in my absence. As well as my domestic assistant who will be in charge of day to day care, I have a roster of friends organised to cope with emergencies.
I hope you all have happy and peaceful Christmases (or appropriate festivities if you don't partake of Christmas). I've enjoyed your company while in exile and hope to see you all (virtually at least) in the new year.
Best wishes, Isabel x
x
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Packing
A few days ago, I alerted the throngs of readers (well two, it seems, anyway) that Marius and I would soon be escaping for a short respite to the land of breakfasts. Tomorrow we are off, which means today I am faced with the unavoidable packing job. Not simply packing, but the wrestle with myself: I don't want to go. I would rather stay put. I hate suitcases and passports and taxis and queues and airports and airport security and changing currency and telephones and ... all of it.
I hate saying goodbye to my cats and entrusting their care to someone else, even if that else is trusted. I hate leaving my books behind, and my garden, and I always end up bringing the wrong shoes (or no shoes at all) and the wrong weight of coat and fear I will forget my medicine chest of drugs.
Which is all ridiculous of course. I can't wait to be at the baggage carousel at Heathrow, counting black suitcases and making little jumps of excitement. Or on the tube, seeing trees and sky when we pull out of the endless tunnels, or hauling myself up the steps at Gloucester Road, or fighting the temptation to kneel in worship when I go into Waitrose to buy my PG Tips and my pint of milk for the early morning cup of tea in bed.
Packing. Which reminds me to get down my travelling teapot (I can't bear tea made in a mug with a jiggly bag and the worst horror - milk added before the bag is removed) and my travelling picnic set (as opposed to my proper picnic set), my fold away cooler bag for transporting picnics and er contraband on the return journey, a knife for cheese, a corkscrew - all the essentials. Forget make up and socks, these things are procurable, but how many travelling picnic knives can one justify replacing?
I always pack two small tea towels as well. I would drive a lesser man than Marius mad, luckily he is used to me now and knows it is far less stressful to give in to my peculiarities than try to reason against me.
I have to dig out the book suitcase. This is a carry-on size bag I pack empty into my suitcase on the outward journey, in order to accommodate the books on the backward journey. It is a mistake to pack books into a large suitcase as it will quickly become dangerously heavy. I always carry two other fold-up bags (Longchamps if you must know) for overflow - dirty laundry at the end of the trip, spare shoes and other awkward objects.
Once coming here to Exile-land from a visit to Malaysia, I carried three Buddhas in my 'overflow' capacity. I live in a nation of shoppers, so naturally the national airline has very generous baggage allowances for frequent travellers, even if they are flying cattle class, as we will. I think our combined allowance is 80 kgs - and we usually manage to put it to good use. Vegemite can be quite heavy in quantity.
I have nearly encouraged myself to start discovering where I've hidden the Oyster cards and the London sim card for my phone, and the left-over-from-last-time sterling ...
I hope to be able to tell you tomorrow about the Nonya food we will have enjoyed for dinner.
x
I hate saying goodbye to my cats and entrusting their care to someone else, even if that else is trusted. I hate leaving my books behind, and my garden, and I always end up bringing the wrong shoes (or no shoes at all) and the wrong weight of coat and fear I will forget my medicine chest of drugs.
Which is all ridiculous of course. I can't wait to be at the baggage carousel at Heathrow, counting black suitcases and making little jumps of excitement. Or on the tube, seeing trees and sky when we pull out of the endless tunnels, or hauling myself up the steps at Gloucester Road, or fighting the temptation to kneel in worship when I go into Waitrose to buy my PG Tips and my pint of milk for the early morning cup of tea in bed.
Packing. Which reminds me to get down my travelling teapot (I can't bear tea made in a mug with a jiggly bag and the worst horror - milk added before the bag is removed) and my travelling picnic set (as opposed to my proper picnic set), my fold away cooler bag for transporting picnics and er contraband on the return journey, a knife for cheese, a corkscrew - all the essentials. Forget make up and socks, these things are procurable, but how many travelling picnic knives can one justify replacing?
I always pack two small tea towels as well. I would drive a lesser man than Marius mad, luckily he is used to me now and knows it is far less stressful to give in to my peculiarities than try to reason against me.
I have to dig out the book suitcase. This is a carry-on size bag I pack empty into my suitcase on the outward journey, in order to accommodate the books on the backward journey. It is a mistake to pack books into a large suitcase as it will quickly become dangerously heavy. I always carry two other fold-up bags (Longchamps if you must know) for overflow - dirty laundry at the end of the trip, spare shoes and other awkward objects.
Once coming here to Exile-land from a visit to Malaysia, I carried three Buddhas in my 'overflow' capacity. I live in a nation of shoppers, so naturally the national airline has very generous baggage allowances for frequent travellers, even if they are flying cattle class, as we will. I think our combined allowance is 80 kgs - and we usually manage to put it to good use. Vegemite can be quite heavy in quantity.
I have nearly encouraged myself to start discovering where I've hidden the Oyster cards and the London sim card for my phone, and the left-over-from-last-time sterling ...
I hope to be able to tell you tomorrow about the Nonya food we will have enjoyed for dinner.
x
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