PACKING
One week to go. Still finding bits of party popper stuck between the floor boards from our New Year Party. Two very small-seeming backpacks are laid out, ready to be stuffed with everything we may need for the next five months. A whole load of other stuff has been taken down to the charity shop at Pauline’s hospice. But that still doesn’t leave much wardrobe space for Andy to put his clothes in. Maybe we’ll take the wardrobes with us and leave him the backpacks. I can’t help thinking of my grandmother going on her annual trip to Argentina with 52 pieces of luggage including six hatboxes.
There’s a move afoot to illustrate this first posting with a picture of me in my new head-to-toe thermals, running up and down our Hackney stairs in my backpack as I practise for the Inca Trail. I appreciate that I do look rather striking – a white-haired black panther with a bulging money pouch – but I’m afraid this particular website is aimed at broadening the mind and staying in touch rather than cheap titillation.
One’s kit does seem to have changed a bit since my first gap-year 34 years ago. Instead of goretex fleeces and breathable membrane fabric base layers, I set off for India then with a velvet hat and threadbare hippy coat of many colours … and the poles on my rucksack kept falling to bits. Am not even being allowed to take my guitar this time, but thank goodness for ipods – and I do hope to finally learn the harmonica. I’ll also be studying Italian and Alison Greek, with the help of one slim book and a CD. Neither language is spoken in any of the fourteen or so countries we’re going to…but I expect we’ll get by with a little help from our friends.
Sleeping arrangements for when we’re not staying with friends may still need a bit of sorting out. Alison’s looking forward to five-star hotels with pools and fluffy bathrobes. But I remain confident that she’ll soon take to those simple but friendly rooftop dorms I remember, with shared chillums before bed and shared toilets if you’re lucky….
One week to go. Still finding bits of party popper stuck between the floor boards from our New Year Party. Two very small-seeming backpacks are laid out, ready to be stuffed with everything we may need for the next five months. A whole load of other stuff has been taken down to the charity shop at Pauline’s hospice. But that still doesn’t leave much wardrobe space for Andy to put his clothes in. Maybe we’ll take the wardrobes with us and leave him the backpacks. I can’t help thinking of my grandmother going on her annual trip to Argentina with 52 pieces of luggage including six hatboxes.
There’s a move afoot to illustrate this first posting with a picture of me in my new head-to-toe thermals, running up and down our Hackney stairs in my backpack as I practise for the Inca Trail. I appreciate that I do look rather striking – a white-haired black panther with a bulging money pouch – but I’m afraid this particular website is aimed at broadening the mind and staying in touch rather than cheap titillation.
One’s kit does seem to have changed a bit since my first gap-year 34 years ago. Instead of goretex fleeces and breathable membrane fabric base layers, I set off for India then with a velvet hat and threadbare hippy coat of many colours … and the poles on my rucksack kept falling to bits. Am not even being allowed to take my guitar this time, but thank goodness for ipods – and I do hope to finally learn the harmonica. I’ll also be studying Italian and Alison Greek, with the help of one slim book and a CD. Neither language is spoken in any of the fourteen or so countries we’re going to…but I expect we’ll get by with a little help from our friends.
Sleeping arrangements for when we’re not staying with friends may still need a bit of sorting out. Alison’s looking forward to five-star hotels with pools and fluffy bathrobes. But I remain confident that she’ll soon take to those simple but friendly rooftop dorms I remember, with shared chillums before bed and shared toilets if you’re lucky….
