One of the most popular questions we’ve been asked is how we would go about packing for a year. No matter how far ahead I plan or how many lists I write I am still the person getting onto the ferry with a hairbrush in one hand, and a pair of shoes and a packet of teabags in the other. I always take too many clothes, always end up not wearing half of them, and go home having lost a hairbrush taken too many shoes and clutching an unopened box of teabags.
So where were we to start? Sim had his all planned. He was going ‘traveller’. You know the stuff, anything beige, navy or khaki. Zip off trousers, dries in seconds. Blends into the environment without being noticed. Completely practical. Completely unfashionable. (This reminds me of a story I read a few years ago about ipod owners who were being mugged for their mp3s because thieves knew they had them because of the white headphones. The police were advising people to use cheaper headphones. Apple’s quote was that ‘our clients would rather be mugged than be seen wearing inferior headphones’ Brilliant.)
So what were we to pack? We all bought a backpack, and we worked on the same principal that had got us to Biarritz by train a few years ago – if you can carry it, you can bring it. We sorted through clothes, we’re chasing the sun for a year so banked on not needing jumpers and the like. (Holland clearly didn’t get that information ahead of us arriving there, it poured for three days – so much so that by the time we got to Brussels we had to buy Edie a pair of long warm trousers. Her bronchial pneumonia is clearing up nicely, thank you). The girls also had a box of personal stuff they wanted to take. (among the more random items: 4 travel photo albums – one including just photos of us. ‘But we’re all going on the trip’ I said to Bethan. ‘I’m bringing it for the memories’ she replied.) I was particularly proud of Ella who had a load of schoolbooks which were the important ones from year 7 for Bethan, and Bethan herself who is the worst hoarder and packer in our house. On the Biarritz trip she took two alarm clocks – one of them broken. And as she pointed out she could carry it, so by our own rules, it was allowed. I looked at her tiny box of things for this trip and remarked on how well she’d done. She gave me that look only 11 year old girls can give and said sweetly ‘Of course I’m not taking much – you’ve thrown everything else of mine away.’ Ouch.
I’d been really looking forward to kitting the van out. After the initial fun of choosing material for the curtains I had visions of beautifully coordinated shabby chic crockery and cutlery. When we turned up at our friends Lynne and Jon’s the day before we sailed, and emptied everything out of the van to re-pack it in some order I realised our only utensils were a frying pan, 4 mugs and a sharp knife. Lynne, realising we were in trouble, quickly rustled up a picnic set, two pans from their camping trip the weekend before (‘If I give them to you, it means we don’t have to go again’) and a trug which as every Cath Kidston devotee will know is a MUST for a camping trip.
And the most important piece of packing – the medicine cabinet. We’ve spent a fortune on jabs for the trip and medicines. I woke up one morning the week before we were leaving shouting ‘threadworm tablets’. I had to consider every eventuality. Our brilliant practice nurse Steph, had provided up with the prescription medicine she thought we would need – we topped it up with bottles of calpol, bandages, first aid tweezers and threadworm tablets. (Come on, would you know how to ask for them in Turkish?) Jon spent an hour or so cutting up the medication to pack it into a Halfords tool bag – each with its own separate compartment. His medical knowledge was invaluable. And as he helpfully pointed out, if we hit hard times – there’s going to be a market somewhere for all those drugs ….
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