It was a real coincidence, because I’ve been meaning to take up fencing for ages, ever since I read this article about it in the Daily World. I pick up the sword and experimentally give a little lunge towards my reflection in the mirror. And, sitting proudly on my dressing table, a fencing mask and sword which I bought yesterday. a Linguaphone Italian course which I must start. a Body Shop gift basket that was on sale. Everywhere I look, all around my room, there are huge great tangled piles of. In fact, there seems to be even more of it, as if while my eyes were shut, my clothes have been secretly jumping out of the drawers and running around on my bed.
(Which I always think is a complete con, because, OK, the sarong costs ten quid, but then they add loads of clothes which cost hundreds, and we’re not supposed to notice.)īut when I open my eyes again, the clutter is all still there. Like in those magazine articles on packing, which tell you how to go on holiday with one cheap sarong and cleverly turn it into six different outfits. I mean, just how hard can that be? I step back from my cluttered bed and close my eyes, half hoping that if I wish hard enough, my clothes might magically arrange themselves into a series of neat folded piles. And then fitting it all neatly into my suitcase. It’s simply a question of being organized and staying calm and deciding what exactly I need to take.
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