I live in UK – a country that is notorious for having bad weather.

However, I would argue that problem with the weather in the UK is not that it is consistently bad but that it is not consistent at all.

In summer, the idea of travelling abroad in search of more consistently nice weather becomes very appealing, especially as the internet provides us with access to thousands of websites advertising exciting holiday destinations.

This year, however, the number of travel destinations available to me has been somewhat limited by the amount of money in my bank account.

I have decided to stay at home this summer which is probably for the best because I am not very good at preparing to go on holiday.

This is mainly because I have a tendency to pack significantly more than I need in order to compensate for a range of (often completely implausible) scenarios.

My tendency to pack excessive amounts extends beyond clothing.

When packing, I am fully conscious of the fact that I’m going on holiday for a couple of weeks.

However, for some reason, I insist on taking enough toiletries to open up a beauty store.

I guess I find it comforting to set off on my travels safe in the knowledge that if I was unable to return home, I would have sufficient supplies to establish a living for myself in the local cosmetics industry.

I probably read about four books in a three month period.

However, when I go on holiday, I pack under the assumption that my reading speed will increase so drastically that I will manage to get through the same amount of books in the space of a single week.

Once I have gathered everything that I intend to take with me together, I tend to spend around half and hour glancing back and forth between the mountainous pile of clothes, books and toiletries and my suitcase, thinking that fitting everything in will require me to defy the physical laws of the universe.

Any sensible person would approach this task in a logical way, neatly folding each individual piece of clothing before placing them one by one into their suitcase.

In contrast, I attempt to shorten the process by adopting a more unrefined ‘shove it all in and hope for the best’ approach.

This involves throwing all of my possessions into my bag in the hope that they will miraculously adopt the physical properties of a liquid and adapt to fit the shape of their container.

When this doesn’t work, I resort to sitting on top of the suitcase and using my entire body weight in a vain attempt to compress its contents down to a size where it is possible to close the zip.

When this proves ineffective, I add the force of gravity to the equation.

However, the sheer force of my possessions pressing against the confines of the suitcase is enough to create an equal and opposite reaction that overwhelms the downward motion of my body.

Once I have realised that the force of my willpower alone is not enough to pack my bag, I tend to adopt the more tactical approach of rolling my clothes up like burritos in order to reduce their volume.

However, reducing the volume of the luggage only serves to increase its density, meaning that by the time my suitcase is fully packed, it is so heavy that it develops its own gravitational pull.

Getting to the airport becomes a struggle between my desire to move forwards towards the departure gate and the force of my bag dragging me backwards.

If you enjoyed this post, feel free to check out some of my other posts. I often have profound thoughts on important, life-affirming subjects such as dogs, social awkwardness and scary animals that freak me out.

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