Tag Archives: packing

3 months

1 Aug

So.  This time in three months we’ll be on a plane.  In the air.  On our way to Los Angeles.  It’s still not really sunk in.  I don’t suppose it will until we take off.  Or arrive.  Or get to Disneyland.  Three months.

This time last month, I felt very unprepared indeed.  I felt rather overwhelmed by the length of my to do list, like I might not actually get it done.  Today I’m feeling ever-so-slightly more prepared, like it will be possible to crack the list, if I put in the effort.

We’ve had our first set of jabs, an event I’d been dreading, feeling rather sick about.  And while it wasn’t a barrel of laughs, we survived, with only achy arms to show for it.  The known is always better than the unknown, so  I don’t feel so bad about the next set.  I think we’ll all cope better.

I’ve cleared out more stuff than I ever knew we owned.  I think I’ve almost finished clearing out.  There’s always more, but I’ve got rid of a huge amount of stuff we don’t need.  For people who claim to be not particularly materialistic, who don’t view shopping as a leisure activity, who say they’d rather spend their money on plane tickets than stuff, we’ve got an awful lot of things.  It’s actually kind of embarrassing.  It’s making me think very differently about what is necessary for a comfortable life.

And I’ve started packing.  I’ve spent hours packing.  Carrying tottering piles of books downstairs, putting Playmobil in boxes, clothes in bags.  I’ve spent so much time packing up that I feel like I should be almost finished.  But I’m not, far from it.  I’m probably no more than half way through.  See paragraph above.

We’ve started decorating.  When I say we, I mean a nice man named Guy.  Our bedroom is now very blue.  In all the hurry to pack, I forgot to choose paint colours.  So I did a random pointy finger thing on the colour chart and we got a very bluey blue.  I like it.  I hope Sarah Beeny would approve, I’m not entirely sure that she would.

Umm, what else?  We’ve had some lights fixed, still have more lights to sort.  We’ve cancelled British Gas Homecare, we’ve possibly sold our car.  We’ve all been to the dentist except Steve (he’s a grown man, he can sort his own teeth out, are you reading this Steve?).  I don’t think we’ll have to go again, although it doesn’t do to tempt fate in these matters.

So, we’re sort of slowly getting there.  Our house is looking increasingly empty, soon it will look empty and pretty.  By this time next month, I hope I’ll have crossed a couple more things off the list.  This time next month, the children will be about to return to school.  Then it’ll be time to really crack on.  To start finishing things off.

I had a thought last night that I should start a packing pile, so that we don’t lose things we definitely need to take.   Like travel towels and the Swiss Army knife.  A packing pile.  Now that IS exciting…

An awful lot of work for a holiday

16 Jul

There’s always stuff to finish up before you go on holiday.  I well remember the late evenings at work in the week before a trip, trying desperately to tick everything off the to do list.  Reports would invariably need to be finished, letters written and sent out and giant dossiers of instructions drawn up telling colleagues what to do when so-and-so called.  You always felt like you’d earned your holiday by the time it arrived.

When we decided to go travelling, we focussed on the travelling itself.  Where will we go?  What will we do?  There’ll be stuff to sort out of course, but it’ll be worth it.  And for the last few months, I’ve gradually been sorting stuff out.  It’s not been too onerous.  Some of it’s even been quite liberating, particularly the weekly charity shop trips.

But now we are in the last few months of preparation, and the stuff to do is mounting up.  The odd trip to the charity shop is no longer enough.  In about two weeks time, a decorator is coming to paint the house from top to bottom, which will hopefully make it an attractive rental proposition.  Speculate to accumulate and all that.  Which means that the time has come to pack up all our belongings.  And despite chucking out what feels like more belongings that one family should decently accumulate in a seven year period, our house is still full.  The walls are covered with pictures, not all of the walls with as many pictures as the wall above, but still, many pictures.  The bookshelves are groaning with books.  The wardrobes and cupboards are crammed full of clothes, sheets and towels.  All of which have to be moved, wrapped, packed or at least stacked into tottering piles in the basement.

And when we come back, pictures will have to be re-hung, books re-shelved, clothes re-crammed into chests of drawers.   In the meantime we’ve got to have hundreds of injections, disconnect and reconnect gas, electricity, phone, Sky, internet, replace a carpet, fix lights.  And other stuff, lots and lots of other stuff to do with being an adult.  We are basically moving house twice in nine months.  In order to have a holiday.

Who’s clever idea was this in the first place?


Don’t worry, I’m aware how lucky I am.  I’m not really looking for sympathy for the fact that I’m about to go travelling for nine months.  I just fancied a moan.  It’s my blog, if I can’t do it here, then where can I?