I am afraid my flat is in quite a mess. That’s because I have started the sifting process in preparation for packing my bags. Just in case you were about to clap with relief, let me make it clear that I am only going on holiday, not forever.

There are still some weeks to go, but I have never been able to throw things into a suitcase at the last minute and rush to the airport. For me, this endeavour requires a lot of deliberation and hard choices to be made. Nothing earth-shattering, just things like whether I should take three pairs of shoes or two. But I can feel the pressure already.

I keep telling myself that I mustn’t forget anything which I will regret leaving behind when I reach my destination. So, out comes the to-do list and the furious scratching and adding of items. The contents of wardrobes are inspected with an eagle eye and then ransacked. By the time I pull out all the clothes that I feel are the bare minimum required for a break that will, hopefully, include many invitations to dinners and lunches, the neat piles are in disarray. Firmly squelching my dismay at the havoc I have created, I tell myself that I will tidy up when I return or just before I leave. Of course, I know this is not going to happen, but I am good at fooling anybody, even myself.

Have you noticed how cupboards seem to shrink when you have to put things back? Suddenly there’s no space for the pile you took out. So, you drop it on the bed and find yourself surrounded by hillock-like heaps which jar on your nerves when you lie down for a well-earned rest.

Then there are the presents to be thought of for friends and family. No one has asked for anything, but you want to make the gesture. Through the year, you have been collecting likely giveaways. You know you have put them away in safe storage, but can’t seem to find any of them. You are obviously good at secreting things away and then forgetting the secret places! Sometimes I come across them after I return from my holiday and berate myself for not having done a more thorough search. I console myself with the thought that they can be given away on my next holiday — if I find them again.

Fortunately, there are only two siblings back home whom I have to think about as far as presents are concerned. When I ask them what they want, they say they don’t really need anything. This puts even more pressure on me. I want to take them something, but if they can’t give me an idea of what they would like, it is going to make things even more difficult. When I press them for specifics, they purposely come up with things that I would have to go into debt to be able to afford. When I ask them not to joke, they say who’s joking. You can see where I get my sense of macabre humour.

Next it is time to choose the carrier. I refer to the container for all my belongings, not the airline. Yet, another decision looms. Should I take the really big one which should be able to accommodate everything or should I opt for two smaller pieces? I try to imagine myself trying to heft the giant one off the carousel and getting a hernia in the process and settle for the second option.

Then it’s time to weigh. I have a variety of scales and each one displays a different figure. So, I calculate an average and start removing stuff to keep within the baggage limit. Now all I need to do is call for a cab.