The leaves have turned and it's time to go home.
It's about time to swap Blighty for the Goldie and so my thoughts have swung to what to wear on the plane that will allow some sleep - hopefully, and will disguise the usual food spillage, and will not see me expire into a puddle of sweat when I step out into the Brisvegas heat.
When I packed to come away, I was aware that I would need to buy a few things to keep me warm. I figured if push came to shove, I'd pop into a charity shop and grab an old man's cardie for a couple of quid and call it a fashion statement. So I packed things that were flexible, Shortie T shirts and Long sleeved ones and knew that I would be able to throw 'em under just about everything I owned and call that a fashion statement too. I brought one 3/4 length cardie, and my faithful old denim jacket. The rest of the stuff was straight from summer, cos let's face it, it's been a bloody long time since I lived here and there is only so much stretch a jumper can handle.
But as luck would have it, I brought the weather with me. Oh I have needed to wear the new boots a couple of times, but fewer times than I have downed a bottle of plonk and propositioned the bus driver on my sway back to the flat. Mostly I have scuffed about in my thongs, and have pretended to be oblivious to the 'bag lady' looks from the locals.
It has been unseasonably warm.
But here's my packing tip, chuck in a variety of scarves, some heavy and some light weight and try to change up the colours. I have worn a scarf of some sort almost every day - makes me feel like I have made a bit of an effort and it keeps your neck warm too - winner winner chicken dinner!
If you forget to bring any scarves with you, well the good old charity shops can help you there too. For a couple of quid you can get yourself a few and the beauty of this is that they really aren't yours so you can leave 'em behind cos you aren't all that attached to 'em.
Stupid things that I dragged half way across the world include my heated rollers. What the very fuck was I thinking? The London water is sooo hard and my hair is so abused and damaged that it is about to break off at every angle so additional bashing with heat would not be recommended. The small handful of hair combs have been very useful for grabbing up chunks of wayward stuff and plonking it on top of my head - yeh all very bag lady chic.
I did bring my sneakers which have had one little outing but proved less comfy than the thongs so they have had a lonely hol at the back of the cupboard where they have made lifelong friends with the pair of silly sandals, never worn anywhere, but dragged along, just in case. Just in case what I am not sure, but if the bag is over weight, then they will be the first thing hoofed off.
So I am taking back more than I arrived with, nothing unusual there, except that really it is just Blighty tat and bits and bobs for Belly and Zig for now and for xmas, oh and we got Dog a little silly thing from Eton too.
But the London water plays havoc with more than your hair, it also buggers up elastic and so traditionally I have left my knickers behind. Read into that what you will. I arrive with a dozen or so newish pairs and after 8 weeks they have had it. This sort of explains why knickers at M & S are so much cheaper than at Myers. There is no getting attached to pommie knickers in London.
So tomorrow the cleaning lady will come and do all my ironing and then I'll pack it and when I get home I'll shake it out and hang it up, ( is that a Taylor Swift song?) and I can imagine that I am still on holidays at least until the jet lag evapourates.
Apart from fitting in the souvenir silliness, packing to go home is so much easier. Just shove it all in, no decisions needed, no planning required, just shove it in - still scanning like a Taylor, oh dear.