FIVE DAYS TO SPAIN Well, I started packing on Saturday. I got excited.
As well as liking to be as organised as possible. I ordered new jodhs from the UK that actually arrived yesterday, so I won’t disgrace myself— my favourite pair is going from broken-in to just broken. There’s one last mend in them, and then they’re goners. I think I may save them, though, a talisman against the purchase of a horse. I imagine myself mucking out in these old faithfuls, too holey to ride in, but sacred nevertheless.
There I go again, investing magical powers in inanimate objects.
I’ve got a new whip, a brand new one, not a found object, although I’ll be bringing that one, too. Should I bring both pair of boots? Long- and short-sleeved shirts, and my lightweight anorak. Every pair of knickers I own. I need to buy more socks today… And this is not to mention the civvies, I think we’re taking excursions into Seville, and there may be handsome single men on this trip.
But then you never know, and it would serve me right.
I tend to travel light. I can go to the States— and have done— with a seriously compact wheelie bag, for a fortnight. The bag has gotten bigger, though, since I’ve started bringing my riding clobber along. This will be the biggest bag yet, as my hat is included, and oh! they have a pool! Not that a swimming costume will tip the balance, but there’s the swim hat, the goggles, my water-proof iPod case, water-proof headphones…
How’d I get so high maintenance?