I can’t pretend I enjoy packing. I don’t. My Myers Brigg type is a very clear ‘P’ for perceiving. That pretty much means that I belong to the school of chuck it all in a bag at the last minute and hope for the best. Unfortunately that last minute thing is innate but I’ve learned to master it. Sort of. For Paris, I have forced myself to create a list, or ten (ok, so none of them have been completed, but they’re there).
I’ve memorised my address
I once travelled all the way to Tibet to work with a charity and forgot to take the address with me, which gives you an idea of how laid back (read disorganised) I can be. Once I’m past passport, check, phone, check, laptop, check I’ve lost interest. I’m pleased to report that I’ve already memorised my address on Rue Ordener.
Packing it all in
My lack of organisation means that even though there are 7 days left until I head to Paris I really only have 2 left to pack. I’m heading to London for work on Tuesday, then Birmingham at the weekend and then back into London to catch the Eurostar. I think you’ll agree, that’s spectacularly bad planning on my part. I’ve also managed to drop and smash a TV and lose a camera in the process of moving things around whilst packing. All in all, it’s going well.
Braggadociousness apart, when I finally get around to it, I pack like a pro. I can exist for 3 weeks on a tardis like 30 litre rucksack. I travel light. Really light. Just call me the queen of the carry on. My rationale is if I have to carry it, I’m going minimalist. Working away from home a lot means this is the one thing that I have down pat.
Rue Ordener has three supermarkets and a street market on the doorstep. Anything I forget I can nip out and grab when I arrive. I’ve already mentally composed my first shopping list for the local Monoprix down the road. Coffee is top of the list. Join me for my first cup next Monday morning overlooking the Sacre Coeur.