Packing is a task we all must soldier through around this time of year and I find it to be considerably arduous. Probably because I’m never truly finished until five minutes before I walk out of the front door.
Yet this does not bother me because, regardless of what my family say, there are some things that you simply cannot pack the night before. Such as my hair straightener, seeing as it’s perfectly logical that I want my hair to look perfect for an eight-hour flight, full of people, whom I have never seen before and probably will never see again. Perfectly logical. I’m a teenage girl. Sue me.
I am sure I am not the only one who packs in excess. During the thought process of packing, we assess where we are going and every conceivable scenario that could take place there. As a result we end up packing some ridiculous items.
For example; I’ve packed my umbrella, even though where I am going is estimated to be about 30 metres away from the surface of the sun and hasn’t seen rain in weeks and moreover isn’t expecting any. Nevertheless, if their weather forecasts share the same accuracy rate as those in Bahrain, it will rain. I have also packed a pair of flip flops. I cannot remember a time when I wore flip flops, but apparently on holiday I might start.
So here begins my travel ritual, before the zips are violently ushered shut and the suitcase lifted. A game of cat and Hannah begins as I try and extract my pet feline from the suitcase realm that she has claimed as rightfully hers. In my eyes, it’s an adorable attempt on her part, to make me stay as, in her pompous cat eyes, ‘the smallest opposable thumbed minion has presented me with a new chamber’.
Yet, after all this, I will still sit in the airport believing that I have forgotten something.
