I bade farewell to GOM's side of the family over the weekend, at a ridiculous seventieth birthday party for a great-uncle - who has a grecian swimming pool and a baronial hall complete with suits of armour, set right in the middle of his 1930s chalet. The cultural car-crash house made the experience a totally surreal one. My Small Grandparents are coming down to London for the next three days so I have a chance to spend time with them before I leave.
It's also starting to sink in that I'm actually not going to see all of my friends for quite a while now. Sitting in the pub with The Actor complaining about life yesterday evening, he suddenly remarked "I suppose we won't be doing this for a while now", and I thought oh bloody hell, he's right y'know... Every time I see The Medic she cries "You're going to Africa! For Six Months! And that's A really long time! Who will tell me off for behaving badly when you aren't here??"
"Perhaps we should start packing today." My Mother said thoughtfully, surveying the mounting piles of stuff littering my bedroom floor.
It had never occurred to me before that there was so much stuff I needed. Stuff like toothpaste. I have never bought toothpaste for myself before. Wandering through Sainsburys I realised that perhaps this was a little shameful... You wouldn't believe the amount six months worth of basic toiletries will cost you. A pack of six disposable razor blades costs ten quid, two bottles of suncream is about the same. I've spent nearly seventy quid on toiletries so far, and I haven't bought any Marmite yet.
There's no way all this stuff is going to fit within my 50kg baggage allowance.
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