The Nightmare that is moving. With a capital N.


It’s always difficult moving lock, stock and barrel (and in our case with live and quite vociferous baggage) across continents. It’s like a massive war effort on several fronts, especially if one had anything like a running establishment already.

If like me, you’ve never done that before, you’re likely to make the same mistake I did, which is- (a) try to take too many things with you– either because you are under the mistaken belief that they will come in handy (yes, that means that bed which will not fit, that bedsheet which you will never use again, and the tea cups that are merely decorative and serve no useful purpose to man or beast in a household where no one drinks tea. I’ve learnt the hard way that there’s no point being endlessly optimistic about the weights that you will never use again, or sentimental about the vase you got at your wedding that you hate.

(b) try to pack your own things, in a mistaken control-freaky belief that you, and you alone, are capable of packing the stuff that matters to you in a way that will not destroy them! That very smart idea (or so it seemed at the time) you had of packing your crystal in cotton wool and then in cuff link boxes will backfire spectacularly when you can’t remember where you packed the damn box in the first place. I think it’s better to leave it to the professionals- they know what they’re doing, and even if they don’t, it’s wiser conserving your energy rather than sweating the small stuff. God knows it’s stressful enough! If it’s that precious, leave it with family, or put in your hand luggage on a later trip when there’s less to transport.

(c) try to pack up all your stuff before you’ve read what is and isn’t allowed as cargo– yes, this includes the bottles of perfume you’ve been hoarding since the ninth grade and never found it in your heart to use, and the bunch of dried wildflowers you pinched from your mum seven years ago. Show me a country that will allow you to send in liquids and plant matter as part of personal cargo, and I’ll.. well, I’m basically confident it’s never allowed.

(a), (b) and (c) all have one inevitable outcome, as I am painfully aware. Clutching your forehead and trying to soothe your raging migraine, at a time when you would be far better served having said headache by getting gloriously drunk with your mates before you leave!

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